A New Guardian and Other Stories
by DA4TheFunOfIt
Summary: A series of stories telling what happened after the French and Indian War/Seven Years War. France must relinquish poor Canada to England. Little Canada must accept the fact that he has a new brother who is not at ALL like France.
1. Chapter 1

Canada would never forget that day. The day that France had returned home beaten and bandaged. The day that France looked so defeated and out of character, that Canada almost didn't recognize him. The day that France, Canada's beloved big brother, looked down at him, sadly and said those horrible words:

"I am sorry, Canada, but…you no longer belong to me."

* * *

The toddler didn't understand. How could he? What is a child supposed to think when his guardian says something that crazy?

"W-what do mean, _mon frère_?"

The wounded man smiled a sorrowful smile down at the tiny boy. He knelt down at the boy's level. France held his arms out to Canada. The boy hesitantly walked forward until France clutched him, gently by his little arms. France's cheerless smile never left as he tenderly stroked Canada's cheek and long, curly hair.

"You are so cute, _Mathieu_," France said in a horse whisper.

Canada hugged his stuffed bear tighter. His uneasiness grew at France's actions—not that it wasn't normal for his big brother to cuddle him. France was one man who was _never_ afraid to show affection, and it was _certainly_ a common thing for France to complement Canada on his cute face. Usually, when these two were together, practically every other sentence out of the Frenchmen's mouth was a reminder to the child of how adorable he was. What frightened Canada, was his brother's attitude. France was acting so strange. Canada had never seen him this depressed. He could feel his guardian's strong hand on him waver before he continued with his unhappy news.

"Do you remember that I have been fighting a war with England?"

Canada nodded. He remembered. How could he forget? France was always away because of that. Canada had worried himself sick over his big brother every time France had set out to rejoin the battle.

France smiled his sad smile again.

"Of course you do. You were always so smart," France paused for the longest time after that statement. He said nothing. He only gazed lovingly at the confused child. Canada patiently waited for his brother to return to his explanation. At last, France put his sad smile away. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if he was trying to gather strength.

"_Mathieu_," he began. "I want you to listen to your big brother, France very carefully." France's face was now very serious. Yet somehow, it was still gentle…and sad. The sadness never left. Canada nodded again to show that he would listen. France went on.

"The war has ended, _Mathieu_, and by the will of God…"

Canada waited, silently.

"I have lost the war."

Canada said nothing, but he was shocked. France couldn't have lost! Wasn't he always bragging about how he was superior to England in every way?

"Because I lost," France continued. Apparently, there was more. Canada watched his brother's face fill with pain as if he was forcing himself to do something deeply unpleasant. "I have been stripped of many of my previous possessions. My superior has handed them all over to England." France looked away from Canada for a moment. Then, after another deep breath, he raised his head to look his little brother in the eye with determination. "_Mathieu_, it has been decided that you will be given to England…. I cannot be your big brother anymore."

Canada stood stone still and quiet as he tried to process everything his brother had just said. "Shocked" could not _begin_ to describe how the small boy felt. When France had finished, it was as if someone had rung a large church-bell right in Canada's ears. France's words were like a loud "GONG" that had drowned out everything else. Canada could no longer hear the sounds of nature outside the house. He could not hear the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. He could not even hear the sound of his own breathing. Was he still breathing? He couldn't tell. He felt numb. There had to be some sort of mistake. The boy searched his brother's face, but France's serious expression was unwavering.

"But…but…" Canada finally spoke in a whisper. "I don't want to. I-I don't want to live with England. I want to stay with you."

France looked away as if he could no longer bear to make eye contact with Canada.

"I am sorry," he replied. "We have no choice. England is your big brother, now."

Canada could feel himself beginning to panic. He could hear the sound of his breathing now. It was anxious and threatening to go out of control.

"B-b-but…I don't want England to be my brother," Feeling was finally returning to Canada's limbs. The frightened child carefully moved closer to France and clutched the beaten nation by his long neckerchief, as he spoke. "I want _you_ to be my brother," he softly pleaded.

France did not respond to Canada's advances. He continued to avoid the boy's eyes.

"It cannot be helped," he said simply. "In war, the defeated must give in to the victor's demands."

Canada felt like the world had suddenly become unsteady. He was feeling sick as the house seemed to shift and rock around him. How could his brother be so calm about this?

"But…I…"

Canada didn't know what to say. He pulled at France for some sort of comfort or security, but his brother seemed to be ignoring him. No. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. It had to be a bad dream!

"But…no…I don't…why can't you…" Canada stumbled over his objections. He began to choke on his own words as rising sobs began to take hold of him.

Finally, France scooped Canada up in his arms and held him in a tight hug. Canada clung to his brother as if his life depended on it. He lost control of himself and wept as France held him, protectively.

"Forgive me, _mon cher_," Canada heard France whisper, pitifully. "I have failed you."

_No…no…no…Stop It!_

Canada was screaming at France on the inside.

_Stop apologizing! Stop saying these terrible things! It's not true! I'm not going to be given away! You wouldn't have let that happen!_

Canada wanted to shout all these things. He wanted to kick and hit and throw a tantrum, but he didn't have the energy. All he could do was cry, uncontrollably into his brother, who was petting him and rocking him in an unsuccessful attempt to sooth his sobs.

"_Je suis vraiment désolé._"

* * *

England, himself, would not be coming to officially claim Canada for some time. France said that it was because the brute had _other_ new acquisitions to tend to, first. Canada was curious as to what that meant, but he did not question any further. France had seemed very bitter when he had explained it, for some reason. Whatever the reason, France definitely didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it. Canada decided that it was not important. For now, the boy was just thankful that he would have his father figure with him for a little while longer.

Over the next few days, France spent as much time as he could with Canada. The day after he delivered the bad news, the Frenchmen switched back to his usual self. He smiled at Canada as if nothing was wrong. He seemed to be making an attempt to comfort Canada by pretending like everything was fine and creating a sense of normality. He probably didn't want to ruin what little time he had left with the boy by talking or thinking about sad events.

To Canada, it was almost like the way things had been when he had first met France. The two had met long ago when France had arrived to create settlements in the New World. Soon after arriving, France claimed Canada as his new little brother. Canada missed that time in his life. In those days, France had given Canada his undivided attention. France had shamelessly spoiled the little boy. He had given Canada extravagant presents, cooked delicious meals and sweets for him, played with him, cuddled with him, told him stories, amazed him with all the things he brought with him from Europe, and had even let the child sleep with him. Those had been very happy times for Canada.

But as the years had passed, France gradually spent less and less time with the boy. Soon, it had seemed like France's life was getting busier. He would often leave Canada home alone. When Canada would ask where he was going and what he was doing, sometimes France would say he had official business to attend to in the colony. Most of the time though, he would smile a charismatic smile and give Canada a mischievous wink, as he told the boy that he was simply sharing his love with the deprived new world. Canada didn't know what that meant, but it sure took up a lot of France's time.

There had also been times when France had had to return to Europe. When France did stay with Canada he would often invite important guests over to socialize. Sometimes France would have lavish parties at Canada's house. Canada had been allowed to attend these parties, but he was treated as little more than a trophy for France to show off. Many nights, France would have "very _special_ guests" over which always meant that Canada would be sent to bed early.

During this time in his life, Canada had wished that France's schedule did not have to be so demanding. Canada loved and trusted his big brother with all of his heart. Yet, sometimes when Canada took the time to really think about it, he would wonder if his brother would want to spend time with him even if he had the chance. Perhaps France had gotten bored with him.

Then, there had come the time when France had become involved in some major wars in Europe. The wars had kept France away for a very long time. Soon, the war between France and England had spread to Canada's side of the globe. Canada had been lucky enough to receive brief visits from France during this time. France would come every now and then to give good news from the battlefield. Canada had not cared much for France's glorious stories of his victory in battle. Canada had just wanted the scary war to end. Canada had hoped that maybe after the long war ended, France would want to take a rest from everything. Canada had thought that maybe then France would have more time to spend with him.

Now, the war was over at last, but it had not been the blessing that Canada had wanted. France was spending time with him now, and it was nice to be babied again, but Canada knew that it was only temporary. After the life-shattering news, Canada became like France's shadow. He attached himself to his brother as if he were afraid that he would disappear at any moment. He even slept with France just like he used to do.

One morning, Canada awoke alone in the bed. Canada rubbed his eyes and scanned the bright room. The room was empty. Feeling nervous, he called France's name. He waited, but no answer came. Now feeling _very_ nervous, little Canada quickly rolled out of the luxurious bed (his faithful teddy-bear in hand) and rushed for the open bedroom door. His eyes searched the area outside of France's room, but he didn't see his brother anywhere. Panic now began to take over the small boy as he called out for France again. Still, there was no answer, but by this time, Canada's nose had picked up the smell of something delicious. Of course! France had to be making breakfast! Canada called for France again and he ran through the house. The "pitter-pattering" of his tiny, bare feet echoed around him as he ran.

Soon, he came upon the kitchen. The child was hoping to see the familiar sight of his brother standing at the stove, cooking away. However, the kitchen was empty as well. No one was cooking anything. There was not even a sign of culinary preparation. There were no pots or pans left out. No ingredients showed themselves. The room was immaculately clean. The smell of food was coming from the far table. Canada stood on tip-toe to examine the top of the table. Breakfast had already been made at set out.

The table was set for one.

Canada became desperate. France had to still be in the house somewhere! He just _had_ to be! The frantic child hurried to the front door; telling himself the whole way that his worst fears were not coming true. Canada stopped short when he reached the door. What he saw, made him feel as if he was trapped in some sort of nightmare.

France was standing at the door, fixing his fancy coat around him. When he was finished, raised his head and noticed Canada staring at him. France looked taken off guard; almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Oh, _Mathieu_!" he said in surprise. "I-I thought you were asleep."

Canada said nothing. He clutched his soft bear and shook his head, no.

"It is still so early," France seemed to be attempting to act natural, but he didn't sound natural. He sounded flustered and nervous. "Why don't you go back to bed?" he suggested with a fake smile.

Canada shook his head again. He was glued to that spot on the floor. France paused. He seemed unsure of how to handle the awkward situation.

"If you are hungry, you may go into the kitchen," France made another effort at distracting Canada. "I made a fabulous breakfast for you," the Frenchmen sang in his most temping voice.

Canada's stomach was aching, but it wasn't from hunger. Slowly, Canada shook his head once more. France tried a few more times to convince Canada to return to bed, to eat his breakfast, or to go play. Canada silently refused every suggestion. Finally, France said the kind of thing that Canada had been dreading he would say:

"I am only stepping out for a moment."

That snapped Canada out if his frozen state. The boy scurried over to France and grasped his leg.

"Don't go, _mon frère_. Please don't go," Canada quietly begged his brother.

"I-I have to go," France replied as he tried to make the boy release him. "There is no need for this. It will only be for a little while," the comforting words did not affect Canada. Who did France think he was kidding? Canada knew France only wore clothes as extravagant as the ones he was now wearing for world travel. Tears began to spill out of Canada.

"Let me come with you," Canada pleaded with all his heart. "_Please, mon frère_. Please don't let England take me. "

With a sigh, France gave up on his façade.

"There is no fooling you, is there?" France asked wearily, after a moment of silence. The older nation kneeled down and embraced the crying child. France allowed Canada to cry into him for a time before he pulled a handkerchief from his coat and started to dab at the boy's eyes. "I am sorry, _Mathieu_," he apologized. "I received word that England would come sometime today. I could not bear to stay and watch him take you away from me. I thought that it might be easier on you, as well, if I left quietly. Tearful farewells are always so difficult."

Canada continued to cry. How could France think that just walking out, without even saying _goodbye_, would make things "easier" on him?

"There, there, shhhh," France soothed as he dried Canada's tears. "You should not cry. It makes you look terribly unattractive. You do not want my last memory of your face to be this pitiful expression, do you? Please cheer up, for me?" France implored. "Let me see that cute smile of yours again."

Canada sniffled, but did his best to stop crying. He wanted to please his brother, even though he felt as if he was being abandoned by him. With a little more encouragement from France, Canada was eventually able to give him a weak smile.

"_Très bien!_" France praised. " That is much better, _non_?"

Canada hung his head. He nodded slightly. Satisfied, France took a moment to put his handkerchief back in his coat. As France was returning the damp cloth to its place, Canada reached up and held France by his coat.

"Please don't leave me," he tried to appeal to his brother once more.

France sighed.

"I do not wish to," he sounded tormented; as if he was fighting tears, himself. "But I must."

"But…" Canada could feel his sobs coming back. "I'm scared."

"Oh, but there is nothing at all to fear!" France waved his hands in front of Canada anxiously. He gave a nervous laugh as he hastily tried to calm Canada's fears. It seemed as if France had suddenly realized how worried the child must be about meeting his sworn enemy. "E-England is not _half_ as bad as I always made him out to be! He will no doubt be hard on you at first, but as long as you do as he says, I am sure no harm will come to you!"

Canada kept his head down and his hand on France's coat. He doubted the words of encouragement, and (judging by the sound of his brother's speech) he was not convinced that France fully believed his own words, either. After France's nervous laughter died down, he sighed and gently lifted Canada's chin up so that the boy could look at him.

"Just continue to be your sweet self, and everything will be fine," France said more honestly. "After all, who could resist your charms?"

Canada lowered his head again in despair and buried it in France's chest. France patted the boy's back.

"_Matheiu_, you must promise me something," France spoke after a time. He sounded gravely serious. "You must promise me that you will be a good boy for England. Can you do that?"

Canada squeezed France tighter. His eyes began to fill with fresh tears.

"I-I p-p-promise, _mon frère_," Canada choked out.

France hugged Canada back.

"And…promise me one thing more," France whispered. "Do not forget me? Never forget me and the things that have I taught you."

Canada felt like he was going to die!

"I promise," he weakly whispered back.

The two held onto each other for a few more minutes. At last, France began to gently push Canada away. Canada sadly allowed his brother to go free.

"I am so proud of you," France said as he admired the boy one last time. "You were always so good. I wish that I could stay and watch you mature into the handsome man I am sure you will be…but it seems that it has been fated for us to part ways now."

Canada did not look at France. He was afraid he would start crying again.

"I…I regret that I did not fully take advantage of the short time I had with you," France continued after a long pause. "I took you for granted and we are both paying for it now," France's voice became softer. "If I could only have that time back…"

Canada rubbed at his eyes. As far as Canada cared, France could ignore him all he wanted if he would only _stay_.

"Ah well! That is life, _non_?" France sounded as if he was trying to cheer them both up. "No sense in regretting things that cannot be changed, is there?" he said as he patted Canada on the head. "Let us not dwell on the sad events of the past. If you remember the wonderful times we had together, then at least you will always have me in your heart." With that, France kissed Canada on his fore-head. Then, he quickly stood and readied himself to depart. "England should be arriving soon," he informed. "Stay here and wait for him. Do not forget your promise."

Canada hugged his bear for security. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that France was only leaving to run a few errands. He would be back in no time. That didn't stop his heart from breaking when he heard France open the door. The nation took one last look at his former charge before he took his leave.

"Remember, I will always love you," France assured.

Canada nodded.

The door closed.

Canada whimpered as if the sound of the door shutting had physically hurt him. He did not budge from his spot. Before what had just happened could really sink in, he heard France locking the door from the outside. Canada's head shot up. He suddenly had a painful urge to see France again. He quickly stepped up to the door.

"F-France?" he timidly called as he came to the door. The poor boy could barely reach the high door-knob. He tried in vain to open it. The door really was locked. "France?" Canada called again, a little louder. He listed to the door, but he heard nothing. "France!" Canada pulled desperately on the door. He just wanted to see him. Just one more time! Why didn't his brother answer him?

Canada called for France a few more times before he finally broke down and began to sob, uncontrollably. No. France couldn't just leave him like this! What was he supposed to do now? France had taken care of him for practically as long as he could remember. France just couldn't leave! He was supposed to stay with Canada forever! France was his friend. France was his big brother.

"France…"

But he was even more than that to the tiny Canadian.

"_Papa!_"

* * *

Hours later, Canada sat on the kitchen floor. He had cried all the tears he could cry. The boy was now playing, unconsciously with his stuffed bear. Cold food rested on the table behind him, untouched. Canada didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like doing anything. All he could do was wait. France had said that England would be arriving that day. Canada made himself sick whenever he wondered what England would be like, so he was trying not to think about it. He had never met England before. All he had to go on was everything he had ever heard France say about England—and France had never had _anything_ good to say about England, so that didn't help.

Canada was not really thinking about anything as he sat on the floor. He was in a kind of daze. He felt drained. His heart was not even into playing with his favorite toy. He just sat in his lethargic state, lifting his bear up and down, moving his bear's limbs, turning his bear over and over; it was all mechanical.

Canada was jolted out of his daze by the sound of a sharp knocking at the front door. The sudden noise made Canada freeze in his place. He quietly waited. Inevitably, the knock came again. It had not been his imagination. Had this been any other day, Canada might have bounded to the door, hoping that it was France. But today, Canada barely dared to move a finger. He knew France wasn't at the door. Now that Canada thought about it, France never knocked, anyway. He always came in on his own. Canada was afraid of who was most likely at the door.

The knocking sounded out again. Canada flinched and held his bear close. He prayed that whoever was at the door would give up and leave. The knocking only increased. It was not long before the visitor was pounding on the door. Still, Canada did not get up. He could not have opened the door even if he wanted to. It was locked. The knocking seemed to be getting louder all the time. It was echoing throughout the house and terrifying its young resident. Canada shut his eyes and squeezed his bear. He tried to ignore the ominous banging. If he just ignored it long enough, _surly_ the knocker would go away, eventually! Canada just wanted to be left alone.

BANG!

Canada jumped. Did what he thought just happened, really happen? The loud noise was followed by the sound of heavy footsteps in the house. Yes, the door had been forced open.

"FRANCE!" a booming voice echoed through the house.

Canada flinched again at the angry-sounding voice. He hugged his bear as tight as he could. He didn't know what to do. He certainly did not want to answer, or go looking for that loud voice. Part of him wanted to hide from it, but he was too scared to move. He heard the hard footsteps exploring the house.

"France!" the voice sounded out again. "Where are you? Don't think you can get away with ignoring me!"

Canada had no idea what the voice was saying, but it sounded furious. He thought he could make out France's name being called a few times. Maybe this person was looking for his brother? The footsteps came closer. Canada stiffened and braced for the worst as the mystery intruder appeared in the kitchen doorway.

It was a tall man in a red uniform. He was not quite as tall as France, but somehow he was still much more intimidating. The man had short, wild, blond hair and prominent eyebrows which were lowered in a scowl. The man did a quick scan of the room. Canada clenched his teeth as the man's gaze feel on him, but instead of noticing the boy right away, the man's hasty eyes continued their inspection of the room as if Canada had not been there. The man made an annoyed sound before storming off to another part of the house.

"I know you are here, frog! Stop wasting my time!"

Canada relaxed a bit when the man left. That was weird. Why had the man not noticed him? Although, the boy was not exactly upset about that. At least the man was gone for now. Canada wondered if that man might have been England. If it was, he was nowhere near as scary as Canada had imagined him to be. (Maybe that was because Canada had always imagined him as a cruel monster.) He _was_ scary, but it was not as bad as Canada had been expecting. Maybe France was right about what he had told Canada before he had left.

After the sounds of more stomping and yelling, the man came into view again. He walked into the kitchen, muttering to himself.

"Where the bloody he—" the man stopped short. He had finally noticed Canada. "What are _you_ doing here?" the man suddenly demanded with a stunned look on his face.

Canada blanked out. The man was talking to him, but what was he saying? The French-Canadian couldn't understand him. Before Canada could think of how to respond, the man began to walk over to him. He continued to speak to Canada as if he knew him.

"You little sneak. I thought I made it clear that you couldn't come with me this time. How on earth did you even…wait…" the man kneeled down for a closer look at Canada. He watched closely as Canada backed down under his scrutinizing eyes. "You're not….Who are you?" the man quickly returned to his feet. "Explain yourself, at once."

Canada realized that the man was asking him something. He opened his mouth, but nothing happened. The boy was still taken off guard by the man's appearance. He seemed to have lost his voice.

"Come now, speak up! I don't have all day!" the man spoke again with an impatient attitude.

Canada began to panic, but that only made things worse. His mind was pushing him to say somthing..._anything_! But the boy's unfriendly audience was giving him major stage fright. Canada hugged his bear over his mouth, shyly. He could only utter a few, soft sounds. This did not seem to please the man at all.

"Are you deaf? I asked you a question. Where I come from, children respect their…" the man's voice trailed off once more. Something seemed to have occurred to him. He slapped himself on the face. "Where is my head?" he appeared to be speaking to himself. The seemingly irritated man returned his attention to the small boy on the floor. "_Parlez-vous Français?_"

Canada felt somewhat relieved. The intruder could speak French! (Badly, but he could speak it.) Canada slowly nodded at the man.

"_Oui._" he whispered, humbly.

The man's bad mood seemed to improve just a bit.

"Ah, good," he said. "Now we are getting somewhere. Tell me, _Qui êtes vous?_"

"_C-Canada_."

The man's stunned expression returned.

"_You_ are Canada?" he pointed at the boy as he asked his question in disbelief.

Canada gave an uncertain nod. The question had been spoken in English, but the boy _thought_ he knew what the man was asking. Amazingly, the man gave a small smile and chuckled a bit to himself.

"How amusing," he remarked as he kneeled down and reached a hand out to touch Canada. "For a moment, I could have sworn you were—"

Canada shrank back from the man's outstretched hand. He scooted away backwards in sudden fear. He was not sure who this man was, but he did not trust him. The boy's retreat seemed to have startled the man. He stared blankly at Canada for a moment before slowly retracting his hand with a frown.

"Never mind," he said quietly.

Canada studied the man in front of him. Was it his imagination, or did the man's face seem almost…sad? Canada began to feel guilty. Had he hurt the man's feelings? But then, the look on the man's face switched back to an impatient scowl. The man swiftly rose to his feet once more.

"So, Canada is it? _Où est la France?_"

Canada lowered his head. In a whisper he told the man that France had left already.

"Typical," he heard the man spit out above him. "Just typical. Loathsome, perverted coward. Most likely he's out there having one last go at the natives before his ship departs."

Canada raised his head to see the man rubbing his chin as if he was thinking.

"I'll have to send someone to see that he is on his ship when the time comes."

Canada could actually feel himself starting to get angry. He still didn't have a clue as to exactly what the Englishman was saying, but it sounded like he was probably insulting his brother. Unfortunately, his anger returned to fear when the tall man sharply turned his attention back on him.

"_Pouvez-vous parler l'anglais à tous?_" the man seemed to want to know if Canada could speak any English whatsoever.

"_Non, monsieur,_" Canada said apologetically. "_Je suis désolé._"

"Why am I not surprised?" the man asked himself. "He had all this time to prepare and he couldn't even teach you a few, simple English phrases. Then he simply leaves you on your own, while he goes off to do God-knows-what, and he expects _me_ to tend to you and any trouble you could have caused in his absence."

Canada didn't understand, but the man was acting really upset over something. After finishing with his rant, the man looked back to the boy. He spoke to Canada in a strict tone. His words were in French, but what he said roughly translated to this:

"Pay attention. I don't know what France has told you, but from this point on, things are going to change for you. I am England."

(Canada was afraid of that.)

"You belong to me, now. I won't have any blubbering or resisting. What's done is done, and there is nothing you can do about it. I have graciously decided to allow you to keep your religion and your language. You will also retain your land and law, so you should be grateful.

"I have precious little time to waste dealing with you. I am a very busy man. I will have my hands full setting up British control here, and on top of that, I also have other colonies to think about. I expect you to behave yourself. Make any trouble for me, and you will regret it," after a short pause, as if he was trying to decided if there was anything else left to add, England continued.

"Also, you must learn English right away. You are British property now, and I will not have you being ignorant of your sovereign's language. In my spare time, I will teach you. You may speak French when you are alone and in your own lands if you choose, but when I am around and whenever we go anywhere else, I expect you to only converse in perfect English.

"Our relationship does not have to be an unpleasant one. All you need to do is obey me. Submit to my rule and everything will be fine. Are we clear?"

Canada felt sick. He thought that he had emptied himself of tears, but he could feel fresh ones welling up in his eyes. He wanted to weep. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide.

He wanted _France_.

But France was gone forever. His big brother was not there. England was. Canada felt so small compared to the powerful man looking down on him. He looked away from England as his lip started to tremble.

"_Comprenez-vous?_" Canada heard England repeat.

"_Oui, Monsieur Angleterre,_" Canada spoke in a very soft and sad whisper.

Canada thought that England seemed put off by his timid attitude. The powerful nation kneeled in front of Canada and forced the boy to look at him.

"We shall have you're first English lesson here and now. It is not '_Monsieur Angleterre,_' it is 'Mister England.'" England coldly instructed. "Do you understand?"

"_Oui, Monsieur Angleterre,_" Canada answered in French without even thinking about it. He realized his mistake the moment he made it. Canada was horrified with himself! What if England thought he was trying to be impertinent?"

"_Yes. Sir. Mister. England._" England carefully corrected. His voice held a warning.

Canada guessed that England wanted him to repeat the words.

"Y-yes sehr, Miss-stahr Ee-gu-land."

Canada cringed as he forced the words out of his mouth. He had given his best effort to say the sentence the same way England had said it, but he knew he had failed, miserably. His English was probably worse than England's French. He was sure England would be furious with him for his shameful pronunciation. France had always told him that, like everything else, language was supposed to be a _beautiful_ thing. There was no excuse for abusing it. He heard England grunt before he stood again.

"I suppose that's a start."

* * *

Author's Note: It's so hard for me to be nice to France, since I really don't like him (the Hetalia character, not the country). But I imagine that he really does care for Canada, and was sad when he had to give him up. It was probably one of those, "You never know what you have till it' s gone," moments for him.

Ok, I'm American and not an expert on Canadian history, but from everything I've read, when England took control of Canada, they weren't _quite_ as nice as the French had been. They did not get along as well with the Indians. They did let the French settlers keep their lands and Napoleonic law. They also let them keep their language and Roman Catholic religions, which was "nice," but it was a LONG time before England actually recognized either. England gave unfair special privileges to the Protestants and ignored the Catholics. Canada also had to deal with no real representation, just like us. (Aw, I feel for you, Canada.)

Don't worry, little Canada! Things are going to get better! I promise! England's not really a cruel, heartless, scary guy! He's just…England. You'll get used to him. (Just so everyone knows, I'm not trying to make England evil! He's just having a rough day and acting all tsun-dere-ish.)

Please check this out on my Deviantart account too (4TheFunOfIt)! There are links to a number of great fan arts for this that you should see in the artist comments. I think my favorite is the one done by the awesome ArkhamInsanity, because it looks so much like what I was imagining when I wrote this!

Oh, and I tried to keep the French simple. I only speak a _tiny_ bit of French, and I didn't have anyone I could check with besides google translator (and we all know how accurate _that_ is). Sorry if I abused your language, French speakers! Please correct me if I did! But I don't really mind if I messed up with England's French since it is supposed to be bad, anyway.


	2. Playmates Part 1

The tiny, Canadian boy looked down in absolute misery at the meal that had been placed before him. It looked like someone had tried to cook vomit. It smelled worse. And to think that the boy had actually been excited about the meal. What child wouldn't be happy about being told he was going to have pudding for dinner? However, what now sat on his tray was not the delicious dessert the boy had imagined. Oh, it was pudding, alright. _Kidney_ pudding. The boy now recalled all the other so-called meals that his new guardian had made for him. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

The boy lifted up his stuffed bear and held it in front of his mouth and nose to block the scent of "dinner." As he did so, he could hear smacking coming from his side. He looked over to see his new brother, a boy his age, happily devouring the organs. The boy with the bear was shocked. Did his sibling actually like that stuff? The other boy was unaware of the Canadian's bewilderment as he picked up the messy chunks and popped them in his mouth. The first boy turned away in disgust. He couldn't believe it. He was actually touching it—with his _HANDS_!

The boy closed his eyes and tried to ignore sickening sounds coming from the other side of him. How he missed the days when he had been fed real food! He pushed his bear closer to his face and breathed deeply through it. The smell from the bear gave him comfort. _Roses._It helped him to imagine happier times.

His day dreams were interrupted by the voice of his latest guardian reprimanding the other boy for not eating with a spoon. The reminiscing boy allowed himself to come back to reality and observe the scene. He watched, quietly as the tall man got up from his seat and walked over to the other boy's high chair. The boy with the bear was starting to realize that the man gave the other boy slightly different treatment from his own. The man scolded the messy boy, but more gently than the times when he had scolded the Canadian. He lovingly cleaned off the boy's hands and then armed one of them with the neglected spoon before patting him on the head. The quiet boy raised his eyebrows. The man's new behavior was baffling. The boy had never seen the man act like that before.

The man was called England. The boys were new additions to the British Empire. The boy with the bear was, of course, Canada. The other boy was…America…if the Canadian child remembered correctly. He had only met the boy less than a few hours before, but the meeting was nothing but a blur. Canada still did not know what to think of America. However, he did know how he felt about England.

Canada did not like England.

Not at all.

Canada was actually a bit afraid of England. England was the one who had hurt Canada's big brother, France. England was the reason that Canada could no longer see his beloved brother, or even refer to him as such. According to England, _he_ was Canada's big brother now. Canada did not want England as his brother, but the small boy didn't have any choice. After years of war, England had finally won Canada from France. Even France, himself, had remorsefully told Canada there was nothing they could do about it. So Canada had sadly accepted his fate as a possession of England's. Even if Canada could muster up enough nerve to try and fight it, what could a weak colony like him do against a great and powerful nation like England?

Canada had learned quickly that England was _very_ different from his previous big brother. France had been carefree and affectionate. England was stern and intimidating. The hardened nation had a "no nonsense" attitude, and he almost always seemed to have a cross look on his face. England's ever-present scowl frightened the tiny, sensitive boy. Canada did not like being around England. He was always afraid that he would accidentally do or say something that would upset his new caretaker. Luckily, avoiding England had turned out to be pretty easy.

Back when England had first arrived in Canada, he had been very busy setting up control in the area and dealing with other political matters. Any small amount of time that England had spent with Canada was mostly devoted to teaching the boy English. Other than that, the man did not seem to have much interest the boy-colony—which Canada did not mind one bit! He was used to being alone, by now. Even France had been paying little attention to him in recent years. Besides, England was the last person with whom Canada wanted to spend time.

Still, despite the large amount of time that Canada had enjoyed free from England's company, the boy's new life was far from easy. He and England had gotten off to a rough start. For one thing, the natives were not exactly happy about the new management. Soon after England had taken control of Canada and other lands, a few tribes started an uprising against British rule. England had been forced to deal with the rebellions, and had unfortunately taken out his anger for it all on Canada. England had suspected Canada's French residents of encouraging the Indians to revolt. Canada had tearfully assured England that he had not had anything to do with the unrest. Nevertheless, England had forbidden Canada from speaking with his Indian friends after that.

Canada did not understand why England did not like his Indians. France had never had much of a problem with them. The Indians had especially liked France because he had given them gifts and had traded with them. Many of France's people had also inter-married with the Indians and had lived peacefully with them. Canada, himself, had lived with the Indians long before even France had arrived. The Indians were like a family to Canada. Now all of a sudden, England comes along and starts talking about the Indians as if they were barely human! Canada had not understood, but he had done as England had commanded without questioning him.

England's issue with the Indians was not the only thing that Canada had trouble understanding. England had problems with Canada's Roman Catholic faith, as well. Fortunately, Canada had been allowed to keep his religion, but England still expressed a strong disapproval of it. Canada had not understood, but all the same, every single time his new guardian would criticize his beliefs, Canada would only listen quietly and respectfully.

It was the same situation with Canada's language. England had also allowed Canada to retain his French speech, yet he demanded that Canada learn English and only speak to him in that language. Canada had caught on to the new language surprisingly easy, but it was hard for the boy to listen to England constantly ridicule his home language, along with the beloved brother who had taught it to him.

England had said during all this time that Canada should consider himself fortunate that he was being permitted to retain so much, but the boy did not feel very privileged at all. Yes, England may have _claimed_ that he would let Canada keep his language and religion, but Canada felt as if his guardian was trying to undermine both at every opportunity. He was beginning to think that he would never be able to please England.

From the very day that England had taken control of Canada, the little boy had been trying hard to obey him. He had been following all the rules like a good little British colony, but getting used to his new life was so difficult! Canada was a boy who liked to take things slow. It took him time to adjust to change, and his new situation was a pretty _big_ change that seemed to have happened all at once. The more time Canada spent as English territory, the more he desperately missed France. No one could ever replace Canada's original big brother—especially not England. But France had made Canada promise that he would be good for his new brother. Canada would keep that promise. He would be good. He would obey England as his _sovereign_ to the best of his ability, but he was positive that he would never think of him as a _brother_. Who would ever want to be related to a cruel person like England?

At least, Canada _thought _of England as cruel, today he had been witnessing a new side of England. Ever since that morning, his new guardian had been acting unusual. The man had had woken Canada early and had prepared him for a short trip. During all the arrangements, England had appeared to be in the closest thing to a good mood that Canada had ever seen him in. The strict nation had actually smiled…and he had even hummed a cheerful tune a few times. Canada had not known what to make of England's sudden change in character. He had been almost more afraid of the new England than he had been of the old.

While on their journey, England had finally informed the curious Canada of their destination. He had told the little boy that he was taking him to meet his brother, America. This had been the first time that Canada had learned of his twin. America was another territory that England had won the rights to in his war with France. Well, actually England had already owned several colonies in America before, and France had owned a vast amount of land in the American west, but both countries had only discovered the _human_form of America living in the wild fairly recently. Since their discovery, the rival countries had argued constantly over who little America belonged to. With his recent victory over France that had doomed Canada to his new life, England had also won that long argument over America once and for all. When England had increased his territory in America, the boy-America had come to live with England as his official little brother. Apparently, England had been taking care of America while Canada and France had been awaiting their separation.

At first, Canada had been excited about meeting a brother his own age. He had been so lonely ever since France had left. It had been comforting to learn that there was another child in the same situation as him. Maybe they could be friends and support each other while under England's rule.

However, when Canada and England had arrived in America's land, things had not gone exactly as Canada had imagined. England had called out for America when he and Canada had neared America's house. Shortly after, the door to the house had opened and a small boy's head had poked out. Canada had been stunned when America had emerged for the first time. Just imagine how shocked _you_ would be if you saw…well…_yourself_. That was what it had been like for Canada. Except for his hair length and the shade of his eyes, America looked identical to Canada.

Canada had not been given time to recover from his initial shock. As soon as America had noticed Canada, the hyper child had rushed out to him. America had then run circles around Canada. He had moved so fast in his surveying, that Canada's eyes had barely been able to follow him. Canada had nervously tried to introduce himself to America, but anything he had stuttered out had been drowned out by the other boy's surprised exclamations: "Y-y-your face! You have my face! It's just wike mine!"

Then, just as quickly as the whirlwind had come, it had left. America had become bored, quickly with Canada. After seemingly deciding that his doppelganger was no longer interesting, America had turned his attention to England and had frankly informed the older nation that he was hungry. England had simply smiled and had then led America back into the house with promises to cook dinner soon. The pair had left a very flustered Canada behind to wonder what had just happened.

And that was basically how the rest of the evening had played out. Canada had followed England and America into the house, but the two were having such a good time together, that they had both seemed to have forgotten about the poor Canadian. America had wanted to help England cook. England had seemed more than happy to have America by his side as he worked. Canada had felt so out of place as he had watched England preparing the meal while America chatted with him about all of the adventures he had had while the older nation had been away. Not knowing what else to do, Canada had quietly wandered into another room and had napped until dinner was ready.

Now, Canada was being forced to watch England shower America with more affection and attention. Canada sighed as he watched his dining entertainment. His confusion over England's behavior was starting to be replaced by a depressing feeling of being left out. Canada's dreams of having a like-hearted brother to play with were broken. America appeared to love England, and he seemed to have no motivation to acknowledge Canada. Then it got worse. Seeing England with America suddenly began to remind Canada of the fun times that he had spent with France. Canada's heart began to hurt. He did not know how much more of this torture he could take. The sad boy hung his head, but then almost gagged when he was reminded of what was still on his plate. Canada lifted his head back up and made himself address England.

"Um, um, excuse me?" Canada softly spoke up. One thing the boy _did_ know was that if he ate one more bite of England's cooking he might just die of food poisoning. He decided to risk angering England for the sake of his poor stomach. "M-Mister England? M-may I be excused, please?"

England turned his attention away from America once he noticed that Canada was speaking to him. The man's eyes did a quick inspection of Canada's plate before he spoke back.

"You haven't touched your food," England pointed out with a frown.

Canada looked downwards.

"I am not hungry," he whispered, hoping that that would be good enough to excuse him from the disgusting meal and get him away from the unbearable atmosphere. He was pretty sure that it wouldn't be, though. He was expecting England to scold him and say something like he should eat the food because it was good for him, and that he would be ungrateful if he let it go to waste.

Ordinarily, England probably would have done something like that. Maybe it was because England was in a good mood, but he finally seemed to realize that something was bothering Canada. Canada heard England rise from his seat and approach him. For a moment, Canada was worried that England might try to feed him. Instead, Canada felt England place a large hand on his fore-head.

"Are you well?" England asked as he checked the boy's temperature.

"I…I…" Canada was too surprised by the concern in England's voice to say anything, at first.

"Engwand!" America's voice interrupted. "Watch what I can do!"

England turned to look, and Canada raised his head out of slight curiosity. America was tossing pieces of his food up in the air and trying to catch them with his mouth. Most of his impressive launches were missing their target. England paled when he saw the mess that America was making.

"America!" he exclaimed before briefly turning back to Canada. "Oh, very well! Just try to stay out of the way," he said as he lifted Canada out of his high chair and placed him on the floor. He seemed to have decided that it would be easier to just give into Canada's wish for the moment. "If you change your mind about dinner, let me know." With that last instruction, England rushed over to America.

Canada had been moved from his seat to the ground so fast, that he needed a moment to steady himself. Once he had his balance back, he took one last look at America and England. England had stopped America's antics by now, and was cleaning the boy's misfired gut-chunks from the floor. He was lecturing America on manners as he worked. America was laughing and bragging about how the trick had worked great the _first _time. Soon, even England was chuckling at the situation.

Canada felt heart-sick again. With a sigh, he wrapped both arms around his toy bear and slowly walked away. Canada didn't notice it, but America had caught sight of him as he left.

"Hey! Me too! Get me down too!"

* * *

Canada was wondering what he should do as he moped into the next room. He could always play, quietly by himself. He would probably end up just going back to sleep. He felt too depressed to do anything else.

"Hey you! Wait!" Canada heard America's voice. It was quickly followed by the sound of America's feet as he ran towards Canada. Canada didn't bother to answer. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.

"Hey!" America called out again. "Other me! Wait up!"

Canada stopped in his tracks. He turned and faced America just as the boy had caught up with him.

"I am not '_another you_!' I am _me_!" Canada claimed in a strong whisper.

"I know," America said with a lighthearted grin. (Canada noticed here that America's previously messy face and hands were now clean. England had no doubt wiped them off before turning the boy loose.) "So what's your name again?" America asked with a curious expression.

Canada hugged his bear.

"It is Canada," he mumbled.

"Okay!" America gave a friendly smile and pointed at the stuffed animal in Canada's arms. "I wike your bear," he said.

"Th-Thank you," Canada said politely. He was starting to feel a little shy. America moved closer to Canada.

"Can I see 'em?" America gestured to the bear again.

Canada looked at his bear. He looked at the expectant America. And then he looked back at his bear again. He shifted back and forth as he thought about the request. Canada felt conflicted. He wanted to be nice, but he did not feel comfortable giving up his special bear—even for a minute.

"I-I do not think so," Canada finally decided. But America was not satisfied with the decision. He took a step closer to Canada.

"Pwease?" America tried using the "magic word," as England called it.

Canada took a step back.

"I…do not want to."

"Just for a widdle bit?" America persisted. "I'll be weal careful." As he spoke, America reached out and tried to touch Canada's bear.

Canada jerked it away.

"No. P-Please stop it," Canada pleaded.

"But I just wanna hold 'em for a minute!" America reasoned. "Ya can't hog 'em all ta yourself!"

Canada felt that he had every right to "hog" the bear, seeing as how it belonged to _him_! Canada planted himself on the floor and clutched his bear, stubbornly. America stomped his foot.

"You'd better wet me have 'em, or else," he warned.

Canada looked up.

"Or else?" he asked in confusion. Was America…_threatening_ him?

"ENGWAND!" America suddenly shouted. "Canada won't share!"

"Eh?" Canada squeaked in shock. Now he knew he was in for it! Why did America have to involve England in this? England quickly came running into the room.

"What's all the fuss about?" he demanded.

"Canada won't wet me pway wif his bear!" America tattled.

England looked down at Canada, who was clutching his bear, protectively. England frowned and crossed his arms at him.

"_Canada_," England sternly addressed the cowering boy. "Let America have the bear."

"B-but…" Canada weakly protested. "He is _mine_."

England's threatening gaze seemed to get worse.

"I said, _let him have it_," England repeated, firmly. "If you cannot share with one another, then neither of you will have the privilege of playing with the bear. Do I make myself clear?"

Canada cringed as he held onto his little friend. He didn't want his favorite toy to be taken away! Canada glanced over at the awaiting America. Sadly, Canada handed his beloved bear over to the other boy. America gladly took the bear and gave it a squeeze.

"Good," England sounded satisfied. "Now I expect you both to play nicely while I tidy up for a bit."

England walked away, leaving the boys to themselves. America plopped down on the floor near Canada and began to examine the bear in his hands. Canada watched carefully as America studied his bear.

"I've nevuh seen an all-white bear before," he casually commented.

Canada gripped his long shirt. With his bear gone, he felt like a part of him was missing.

"H-he is a polar bear," Canada informed.

"What's a polwar bear?" America asked as he began to toss the bear up in the air.

Canada watched, anxiously as America caught his fragile bear and continued to throw him up in the air over and over again.

"It…it is a white bear that lives were it is very cold," Canada could not take his eyes off his bear as he spoke. He pulled and fiddled with his shirt, restlessly. He hoped America wouldn't hurt his poor toy. How much longer did he have to let America play with it?

"Oh," America said simply. He eventually stopped tossing the bear and gave it another tight hug. "He's so soft!" he happily exclaimed as he nuzzled the plush toy. "Where'd ya get 'em?"

Canada bowed his head.

"F-France gave him to me," he whispered.

"Fwance?"

Canada nodded.

"Engwand says dat Fwance is a silwy, puffed-up, fwog."

Canada stiffened.

"He said dat I'm not s'posed ta talk to Fwance, 'cause he's a bad guy."

Even though America was talking about France, Canada felt some-what insulted.

"N-no. H-he is not," Canada made a small attempt to defend France.

"Is too," America said with an "as-a-matter-of-fact" attitude. "Engwand says dat if I evuh see Fwance, I should wun away as fast as I can, or Fwance might do somethin' bad ta me." America then proceeded to share with Canada all of his superior knowledge about France, as if it was his duty to inform the new kid of the dangers of the wine-loving country.

While America talked, Canada instinctively wanted to hug something, but America still had his bear. Canada's security was gone. The space in front of him, usually reserved for the thing that always gave him comfort, was now empty. As America went on, Canada did not know what to do with himself. He felt so awkward without his bear. But soon, Canada could feel America's words getting to him. The more America talked, the more Canada could feel his anger rising. Canada gritted his teeth. He could take insults like this from England, but he was _not_ going to listen to the same garbage from another boy—especially one that looked just like him! This kid didn't even know what he was talking about! How _dare_ he talk about his brother like that?

"And he's a dummy," America finished.

Canada took a deep breath.

"He…is…NOT!" the boy suddenly heard himself burst out with more volume than he knew he had.

America stopped playing with the bear and looked up at Canada, blankly. Where had _that _come from? Canada was glaring at America, but once America looked back at him in surprise, Canada's face switched to confusion as well. He was even more surprised than America was that he had exploded like that.

Canada began to stutter. He figured he should apologize for his outburst, when all of a sudden, Canada felt something cool and wet sliding down his hot cheeks. That was when Canada realized that he had been fighting back tears that whole time. He felt his body shake as he tried to stop them, but it was no use. Suddenly, he felt all of his frustrations over the recent changes in his life overwhelming him. He had been suffering in silence for so long and he couldn't hold it all back anymore. He covered his face cried, pitifully.

* * *

EDIT: I changed America's speech to more closely match his baby-talk in Close Shave.

Argh! This one gave me so much trouble, but it's finally done! Take _that_ writer's block and computer crashes!

So, continuing on from the opening story, "A New Guardian," Canada is still having a tough time, but I swear the next part is happier!

Random History Facts Time:  
Ok. So the Indian uprising mentioned in the story is Pontiac's Rebellion. It happened in 1763—the same year that England took control of Canada. The French had made alliances with many Indian tribes when they had control, but England wanted to treat the Indians like a conquered people. That, of course, did not sit well with the Indians. A few tribes from both America and Canada got together and decided to fight back. According to everything I read about it, all the British officers at the time believed that the French colonists were to blame for the troubles with the natives, and even most historians used to think that French loyalists from Québec had encouraged the Indians to rebel, but it turns out that there is no evidence for that at all! It seems that the French-Canadians had little or nothing to do with the rebellion. Yeah, poor Canada got blamed by England for something that wasn't his fault.

Also, I don't know for sure if this is true or not, but I heard somewhere that when France had control of Canada, the French government actually _encouraged_ the French settlers to take native wives in order to keep good relations with the Indian tribes. Like I said, don't quote me on that, but I thought it sounded funny. That would be so like the Hetalia France to establish good alliances with native tribes through "love." And a lot of the French in Canada did end up marrying the natives.

I almost forgot! The part where Canada meets America is taken from the Hetalia comics. Wish I could put a link to it here, but I think it's part of the "Fly Canada-san" series.


	3. Playmates Part 2

America's eyes grew as wide as they could get when he saw Canada crying in front of him. He dropped the bear and scooted right in front of the sobbing boy. Filled with sudden concern, America tried to get Canada's attention.

"Hey…what's a matter?" he asked softly. His hand reached out to gently touch the distressed colony's shoulder. "Don't cwy."

Canada didn't respond. He kept his face covered and rubbed his eyes as more tears poured out of him. America looked on in major confusion. Why was Canada crying? Was it because of something he had done? America looked over his own shoulder at the discarded bear on the floor. He grabbed the bear and held it out to Canada. Maybe that was what the boy wanted?

"Here, you can have your bear back," America tried.

Instead of taking the bear, Canada just slowly wilted forward and curled up, face down on the ground. His weeping did not let up as he lay on the floor. America felt awkward watching the pathetic sight. Now what? He looked around the room, wondering what he should do.

"Um…uh…" America stammered nervously as Canada cried on. After thinking the situation over carefully, America jumped up. "Wait here!" he commanded, and even though Canada was not looking at him, America automatically held out his hands to motion for his twin to remain in the room. America then made an about-face and sprinted for the kitchen. England would know what to do!

Before America could exit the room, however, he came to an abrupt halt. He froze in place as if he had been turned to stone. It had just occurred to him that he _might_ get in trouble for making his look-alike cry, if England got involved (although he was still not sure exactly what he had done to cause the water-works). Getting England was now out of the question. America looked back at Canada, who was still in the same position and was still crying his heart out. America bit his lip with worry. He really wanted to help Canada, but he was not sure how. He didn't even know what was wrong. America started to pace back and forth as he pondered how to comfort Canada. There just _had_to be a way to make him stop crying that didn't involve running to England for help! America could cheer him up! He knew he could…somehow…. That's when it hit him! The boy would have snapped his fingers at his burst of brilliance, had he been old enough to know how. America confidently turned back to Canada and once again motioned for him to stay put.

"Don't worry! I'll be wight back!" he promised. The boy then dashed out of the room. A minute or two later, he came running back with something extra. He got on his knees in front of Canada and addressed him again. "Hey! You can have one of my toys!" he eagerly offered. America had thought that it might help if he shared one of his own stuffed animals with Canada. "It's a wabbit! See?" America proudly held up a stuffed bunny with long, floppy ears for Canada to admire. Canada did not react as the American boy showed off his new companion. Really, any action America preformed in front of Canada was kind of pointless (seeing as how the Canadian kid's face was _still_buried in the floor), but America would not give up. He was determined to make Canada happy again.

"Here, take 'em!" the boy pushed his peace offering towards his unhappy visitor. "It's alwight!" he assured as he did so. But it didn't matter how much encouragement America gave to Canada. Nothing changed. Canada ignored America and kept on crying in his soft way.

America eventually put his hands on his head in a panic. He couldn't make Canada stop! Nothing worked! What should he do? What should he do? America was starting to feel like crying, too. He could feel himself tearing up out of pity and frustration. It was just a good thing for him that Canada was bawling as softly as a baby mouse. Otherwise, England would have been in there, by now.

In a last effort to calm Canada, America crawled next to him, curled up on the ground beside him, and wrapped an arm around him.

"Why are you cwying?" America begged to know in a whisper. He got no answer, but he patted Canada's back all the same. "It's okay," he said soothingly. "There, there, there," he spoke to Canada in the same tender way that England would speak whenever the American was in distress. Before long, Canada's tears began to die down. America didn't know if it was because of what he was doing, or because Canada was just running out of energy to keep going, but he didn't stop just in case. At long last, Canada finally said something.

"I want to go home," he whined.

"You can't go, yet!" America's voice went from soothing to alarmed. He didn't want his new playmate to leave so soon! "You just got here!"

"I do not like it here," Canada whispered harshly. "And England scares me."

America sat up and scrunched his face in confusion. Canada's last comment had been very strange. England…"_scary_?"

"Engwand's not scawy," America said at last; his brow still creased as he tried to fathom the very idea. Canada said nothing, so America leaned down and put his arm around the boy again. "It's gonna be alwight," he said reassuringly. "You'll see. Engwand's weal nice!"

Canada took a few labored breaths as his body slowly recovered from the sobs.

"I want my brother," he whispered in-between hiccups.

America gulped.

"Uh…we don't hafta get Engwand wight now, do we?" he asked nervously. He was still worried about the chance of getting blamed for Canada's condition.

"_No_," Canada spoke like he was exasperated; as if he was having a hard time making himself be understood. "I want my _real_ brother."

Once again, America was in the dark. He had been told that he and Canada were brothers, but he was right there with Canada, so the boy could not be talking about him. And if Canada wasn't referring to England either, then what other brother could he be talking about? America patted Canada's back some more, since he didn't know what else to do. He was afraid to open his big mouth again. Canada had sounded a little on edge with his last statement. The last thing America wanted was for Canada to start crying all over again.

The two tots stayed huddled together like this until Canada had fully calmed down. America stayed by Canada's side and waited attentively to see if his double would talk again. Eventually, Canada did speak again; very softly. What he said, came as a huge surprise to the other boy.

"I miss France."

America shot up as if Canada had knocked him off his feet. He sat on the floor in shock. "France?" Wait…he couldn't mean…did this weird kid mean that _France_ was his brother? America had never imagined in a million years that the same France that England was always bad-mouthing could have a little brother, too! America looked closely at Canada. Even though he had stopped crying, his depressed form still seemed to be the very definition of "sorrow." Now America understood why. It was clear that Canada loved his former brother, France, in the exact same way that America loved his brother, England. America remembered how much he had missed England when he was away. He couldn't imagine how bad he would feel if he had to be separated from his big brother forever!

"Oh," was all America could say.

After a few seconds, Canada sat up, as well. He wiped at his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. America felt uneasy and his eyes began to search around the room to find anything to watch besides Canada. It was not as if Canada needed privacy to clean his face after a good cry. America was simply unsure of how to act around the boy now. He knew that he couldn't begin to understand what Canada was going through. That's when America noticed that Canada's white bear was laying on the floor, still. He picked it up and fumbled with it nervously, before shyly holding it out to Canada.

"Um…here."

Canada, avoiding America's pitying eyes, accepted the bear with a sniff and gave it a small hug.

"Thank you," he mumbled back.

An awkward moment of silence passed between the two. Neither one really knew what to say or do. Canada was feeling embarrassed that he had allowed himself break down like that in front of America. He was sure that his actions were responsible for the uncomfortable atmosphere that now hovered between himself and America. He figured that America wasn't saying anything because his little emotional fit had scared him into silence.

What Canada didn't realize was that America was actually quietly brainstorming to himself. America was determined to help the suffering Canadian in any way he could. He thought that he should start off by taking the lonely boy's mind off of his absent French brother, but how was he going to pull that off?

While America was trying to come up with the perfect way to make Canada's troubles disappear, Canada was trying to come up with a way to break the silence. He settled on an apology.

"I…I-I am sorry I yelled at—"

"Hey, I've got it!" America shouted out of nowhere. The exclamation made Canada jump.

_Got what?_

Canada thought as he raised his head to stare questioningly at America. He was again startled by America, who had moved so close to the Canadian that he was practically in his face. Well, not "practically." He _was _in his face. When Canada had lifted up his confused face, it was greeted by America's brightly smiling one. Canada was forced to bend back, uncomfortably as America leaned further into him with excitement.

"We're s'posed ta be brothers, wight?" America opened his case with a question. "_Weal_ brothers?"

Canada looked away from the large eyes of the boy who was taking up way too much of his personal space. He wondered how he should answer the random question. Were they brothers? Well, that's what England said, anyway. But where was America going with this? He sniffed one last time and shrugged.

"I guess."

That was all America needed. He sat up and smacked a confident hand to his chest.

"Den _I'll_ be da big brother!" he proclaimed. "So you don't hafta be ascared of anything, cause I'll protect you, okay?"

After hearing that, Canada hesitantly looked back at America. What did America mean by that? Was he trying to cheer him up? Canada squeezed his bear as he wondered how he should respond. Before he had a chance to say anything, America was scooting up close to him again.

"Hey, uh…what's your name?" America asked.

Canada's eyes fell. He sighed. Hadn't they been through this already?

"I told you, I am Canada," he quietly reminded the American colony of his name.

"No, no!" America shook his head. "I mean your other name!"

Canada's expression towards America was blank.

"You gots another name, don't cha?" America pressed. "What is it?"

All at once, Canada realized that America wanted to know his _human_ name.

"_Matheiu_," Canada revealed his name with a shy hug to his bear.

"Bwess you."

"P-Pardon?"

"Didn't ya just sneeze?"

"OH!" Canada gasped at his blunder. "Er, I meant my name is Mat-_th_-ew," he repeated his name again; eyes glancing around the room for any sign of England. This time, he was careful to pronounce the "th" sound in the way that his new guardian had instructed. He hoped that England had not overheard him accidentally use the French variation of his name instead of the English one. Using French around England was not allowed.

"Oh," America nodded at the clarification. Then, he paused. He tilted his head at Canada as if he was pondering something. "You talk kinda funny," America had finally decided.

Canada blushed.

"I-I…I do not," Canada tried unsuccessfully to deny America's innocent remark. The boy was a little embarrassed by his strong French accent.

"Do too," America maintained.

"D-do—"

"Mine's Alfwed."

"no—ah…uh?"

"My name's Alfwed," America eagerly shared his name with Canada. Then, he moved even closer to Canada. To Canada's surprise, America reached out, lifted up locks of his long hair, and began to study them, curiously. "Hey, how come I've nevuh seen you before?"

"Pardon?"

"How come I've nevuh seen you before?" America repeated as he now began to poke Canada. "If we're s'posed ta be brothers, and we're s'posed ta wiv weal cwose, den how come I've nevuh seen you?"

Canada was starting to get annoyed with all the poking and prodding. He tried to scoot back from America's examinations. America noticed the long, curly cowlick that was sticking up on the top of Canada's head. He stared at it with fascination. He reached out gave it a tug just as Canada was backing away from him.

"_Aie_!" Canada yelped in pain. He defensively lifted his bear up and held it on top of his head like a helmet for protection from any further pulling. "I-I do not know," he quickly answered America's question. Actually, Canada was also wondering how he could have gone his whole life without knowing that he had a twin brother, as well.

America continued to stare at Canada for few more seconds before backing up a bit, himself. He crossed his legs and looked upwards as if he was thinking about something.

"Ya know, I thought I was all awone for da _wongest_ time," America confessed; speaking a little quieter now as he reminisced. "And den when all da big people started coming, I got ascared and hid cause I thought I was da only one my size."

Canada slowly lowered his bear from his head. America had his attention. The Canadian understood how he felt. He could still remember when all the explorers, along with their specific countries, had started showing up. The whole experience had been very unnerving to him, as well.

"Me too," he softly empathized.

"But I didn't wike being scared," America added seriously as he turned back to Canada. "I'm widdle, but I'm stwong!" (Here, he raised his arms and flexed his "muscles" to prove his point) "So I decided dat I was gonna be bwave! And den I met Engwand!"

Canada's spirits dropped again at the mention of England. He looked away from America and tightly held his bear. America was surprised by the reaction at first, but then he remembered that Canada didn't like England. America still couldn't understand why Canada was afraid of England. England had never frightened him…wait. America's memories took him back to the time that he had witnessed England and France fighting over him. The countries had eventually come to the decision to let America choose for himself who he wanted as a brother. England had immediately tried to encourage the boy to come to him. England's chuckling, greedy expression had really creeped America out at the time. As if watching two grown men get into a violent fist-fight over who would get to keep him had not been scary enough! America remembered feeling like he was being closed in on by some kind of hungry monster.

Of course, America knew better than to be afraid of England, now. England had turned out to be harmless (at least in America's eyes). England was a little weird sometimes, but he was an ok guy! America crawled forward and leaned down to look up at Canada's down-cast face. Surly he could make Canada understand that, too. America spoke soothingly to Canada again.

"He's big, but he's not weally scawy. Honest. He takes care of me," America kindly assured, before standing up tall to make himself look important. "And I'll take care of you, so don't cwy anymore, 'kay?" he added with a big-brotherly pat on Canada's head.

America did not know why England had taken Canada away from France when he seemed to love him so much, but he was sure there was a good reason! Besides, he was positive that Canada would be happier with England, anyway. He just needed to get used to him. Until then, America decided that it was his mission to make Canada feel more at home. That was what big brothers were for, right? America got back on the floor with his new "little" brother.

"You wanna pway wif me?"

Canada looked up at America.

"It'll be fun."

Canada stared at the ground as he considered America's offer. It did sound tempting, but he was still trying to decide how he felt about America calling the possession of "big brother" and promising to take care of him. What could a boy his own age do to protect him from anything? Still…the thought was nice. Canada looked back at America. He looked as if he was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Canada's answer. Canada sighed.

"Ok," he decided softly.

"Yay!" America jumped up and tackled the unsuspecting boy. He gave his long-lost brother a bear hug and then sat back up. "I'm gwad you're here! Now I got someone wike me ta pway wif when Engwand's not around!"

Canada was lying on his back after America's sudden hug attack. He opened his eyes and looked up at the smiling boy. When Canada saw America's joyful expression, he felt himself smile spite of the fact that he had just been knocked down. He still felt uneasy in his new situation, but he was warming-up once more to the idea of having a brother his age. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

"What do you want to play?" Canada asked shyly as he sat back up. He wasn't sure how to start.

"How 'bout Indians?" America suggested after a moment of thought. Canada instantly perked up at that idea.

"I like Indians," he said. "I know some back home."

"Weally?" America exclaimed as he scooted closer to Canada. "You gots Indians at your house, too?"

Canada smiled and nodded.

"I know some Indians too!" America started out, but then a strange look of regret seemed to take over his features. His head and eyes lowered slightly. "But…Engwand won't wet me pway wif 'em anymore."

Canada bowed his head, as well.

"Me neither," he said in an all too understanding voice.

Things were quiet again until America spoke up.

"Well…we could still pway Indians," he pointed out with a positive attitude.

"Alright."

America stood up.

"Gweat! I'll be da chief!"

* * *

Well here's part 2 at last! Hope you guys like!

Yay! It looks like Canada made friends with America! Hope they play well together. England comes back in part 3!


	4. Playmates Part 3

England soon returned to the room in which he had left his little colonies. With his job of cleaning up after dinner complete, the old nation was wiping his hands as he made his way through the open doorway. He was frowning a bit to himself. Doing all these household chores had been bothersome at first. It had made the mighty Empire feel like such a house-wife, but he was surprisingly becoming accustomed to it. It did give him some sense of pride to have a well ordered house and know that it was because of his own efforts, rather than that of a servant's. England added a bitter grumble to his frown as he thought more about it. He didn't like to admit it, but the fact was that he also somewhat enjoyed a few aspects of the domestic lifestyle, and was even quite good at a few.

If only it was as easy for him to adjust to his new role as a "parent." He was feeling more comfortable around America, at least. He felt so much more at ease being back in the American colonies. Hopefully, he could get some rest where he would not have to think about wars, or work, or dealing with his most recent hassles. What on earth had he been thinking taking on a _French _colony?

"No, not wike dat! It's gonna fall!"

America's voice interrupted England's reflections. England pocketed his handkerchief and raised his head to see what was going on. If those two were fighting again…. England was not able to finish his threatening thoughts. What he saw when he looked up made him pause.

"Like this?" Canada shifted his position and checked for approval. America beamed.

"Perfect! Hold it just wike dat, while I get da bwanket."

As America rushed off to pull a comforter from a bench, England put a hand over his trembling mouth and carefully side-stepped to a chair in a corner. He didn't want to be noticed. He wanted the boys to continue as if he was not in the room so that he could have the best show possible. It seemed that the two were clumsily trying to assemble some kind of fort with cushions from the furniture and a blanket. Little America was giving out orders during the entire construction phase, as if he was an expert on building pillow forts. Being a silent spectator was not easy for England. He found it difficult to keep from laughing as he watched the young duo struggle to keep their structure upright. Watching them play was so comical and amusing and...and…_adorable_. England cursed his inner thoughts for sounding like a doting mother, but he couldn't help it! It was all so _CUTE_!

Once the job was finished, both boys stood back to admire their handiwork. That's when America noticed England watching them out of the corner of his eye. He turned with a big smile to England and waved at him. Canada followed America's eyes and shied away at the sight of the older nation. He made a move to stand behind his twin, but America put an arm around Canada and held him close as he waved.

"Wook at us Engwand!" America called to his mentor. "We made a Indian tent! We're Indians!"

England was disappointed that he had been discovered, but he smiled and waved back at the boys.

"That's very nice," he said with approval.

Luckily, America seemed to be content that England had seen their creation. After getting acknowledgement, he turned back to the crude tent and tugged Canada with him inside it. England chuckled. The two of them barely fit inside their mound of pillows, but that did not seem to discourage them. England entertained himself for awhile by watching the care-free antics of his little colonies. After a time, he sat back to relax in his chair with a book, while the boys played on. He was careful to keep his ears open for any trouble as his read and to take peeks at the children every now and then.

Meanwhile, the boys were having the time of their lives on their end! When America had reinitiated the play, Canada had found it hard to get into the game at first, knowing that England was watching them. But America's persistence soon sucked the self-conscious Canadian into his wild imagination. Canada eventually forgot all about England. For a while, he almost forgot about all of his troubles. He almost felt like he was a care-free kid again, just playing with a new friend.

It turned out that the boys were excellent playmates. They might have been very different, but it could not be denied that they also had a lot in common, at least when it came to play time. America constantly took the lead, but Canada didn't really mind. Excluding the one time when America said that they should pretend to hunt Canada's bear for dinner, everything America suggested sounded like fun, so Canada went along with it.

Like America, Canada was also unusually strong. Both boys were thrilled when that was discovered. Finally they were both able to wrestle with someone their own age who was similar in strength! For once, they could each give it their all and not have to worry about injuring their opponent. At first, it seemed like America was the stronger and faster of the two, but after being beaten by America over and over and over again, a certain annoyed Canadian became very determined to win. America quickly learned that Canada was a force to be reckoned with when he got serious. America was still a tiny bit stronger and faster, but Canada could use strategy to turn the tables on his brother. America was quick and great at offensive attacks, but Canada's quick thinking and winning defensive skills made the boys almost evenly matched. England allowed them to tussle playfully for a few minutes before he interrupted them.

"That's enough of that, you two," he spoke up in the middle of one of their matches.

England's stern voice made the boys freeze in a rather interesting position. Canada was on his back, easily keeping America at bay by holding him up in the air with a foot on his stomach. Before the time out, America had been kicking and struggling to get closer to Canada so that he could completely pin him down. America's left and Canada's right hands had been interlocked together in a game of mercy that Canada had also been winning. Canada's other hand had a tight grip on America's right wrist. America had been using his right hand to try seizing Canada by his apparent weak point: his unruly hair curl. To throw the whole look together, the ribbon that ran through the neckline of Canada's shirt had come undone during all of this and America had been tugging at one of the ends of it with his teeth.

"ARRRRWGH!" America whined, before spitting Canada's ribbon out of his mouth. "But it was just getting good!" he further complained to England; ignoring Canada, who was obediently lowering him back to the solid ground. Canada did not argue with England, but he was just as disappointed as his brother that their fun was cut short. He had been winning for once.

"That's what concerns me," England replied to America. After all, a bit of innocent physical competition was all well and good to get their wiggles out, but England did not want them to get too caught up in it and accidentally hurt themselves (or anything else in the house, for that matter). "Why not play something less aggressive?" he suggested. "You may finish your little round in the morning, if you must—but _outside_."

"Alwight," America huffed. Then, quickly switching gears, he took Canada by the hand and anxiously forced the confused boy to accompany him to another part of the house. "Come on, Maf'oo! I know what we can pway!" the fearless leader sang out as if he had just been struck with gleaming inspiration.

England followed at a distance. He watched curiously as the two disappeared into America's nursery and soon emerged, lugging with them a large bag. It was America's set of wooden building blocks.

"We're gonna pway bwocks in da sittin' woom, kay?" America informed England as they passed by.

England nodded. "That sounds most acceptable," he said with a proud smile, while following the tykes back to the room.

America promptly dumped the contents of the bag out on the floor, once he and Canada had made it back to their starting point. In no time at all, the lad had marked out the construction zone and was soon making plans for an impressive block-tower to rival all block towers, with Canada.

England was going to return to his seat and his book, when he was suddenly struck with some inspiration of his own. He turned away from his chair, and began to make his way back to the kitchen, instead. He looked back at the boys one last time before he left the room, just to make sure they would be alright on their own.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you need me," he called to the tiny builders.

"Uh-huh!" America gave a rushed answer. He sounded as if he was only half-listening. The truth was, he was just too engrossed in his project to care that England would be absent from the room.

Canada was too busy trying to keep up with America's ideas for their structure to notice that England had even spoken. England exited the room with a good feeling. Maybe Canada was good for something, after all. He seemed to be keeping America occupied. How convenient was this? Now England could be free to do what he wanted without worrying. He knew that if it had been just he and America, America would have either tagged along with him and gotten in his way, or would have strayed away from his wholesome activity of stacking blocks in favor of some innocent mischief, after being left alone. A playmate seemed to be just what the boy needed.

England could hear the boys stacking the blocks, as he put out a few ingredients on the table in the kitchen. He continued to listen to the sweet noises while he set to work on his own project. England was extremely relieved that America and Canada appeared to be getting along so well. He had been a bit concerned over their different personalities and how they might react with one another. He would feel much better when he would have to return to Europe, knowing that the boys could coexist peacefully.

"No, no!" America sounded like he was scolding Canada. "Dat's not how it's s'possed ta go!"

England stopped what he was doing. He listened carefully to Canada's hesitant reply.

"B-but…w-what if we did it like this, instead?"

"Hey, yeah!" America seemed to agree with Canada's suggestion, whatever it was. "Dat might work! And we could stack a bunch over here, too: like this! You do that side, and I'll do this one!"

"A-alright," Canada spoke quietly as usual, but now his voice was actually starting to sound more upbeat.

England went back to his baking with a small smile on his face. It was also nice to see Canada coming out of his shell. The Nation pondered a few things about Canada as he worked. Ever since England had met him, Canada had been silent and withdrawn. If England was honest with himself, he would admit that he didn't really dislike Canada. England's problem was that he was unsure of how to handle himself around the boy.

America's cheerful countenance made it easier for England to let his guard down around him. Before England had met America, the small embodiment of the New World had been living as if no one had any control over him, despite the fact that he was rapidly being populated with settlers, and other nations were making claims to him left and right. As soon as it was discovered that there was a young boy who represented the American lands, wondering around on his own, England had known immediately that he had to claim him for the British Empire! It was only natural that the boy was in need of a strong, guiding hand, right? Right! England had set out to conquer America with only profit in mind, but America had been surprisingly _ok_ with the idea of being owned by England. That had completely taken England off guard. America had been readily accepting of England as an older brother from the very beginning, which was another reason that it was easier for England to be himself around the boy. It was almost as if England could feel the callused parts of his nature softening when America was around. England could no longer look at America as a piece of rich land to possess. To England, America was the family that he had never had, but always secretly wished for. England was actually…happy when he was with America.

However, Canada was a different story. England had acquired Canada under very different terms. America had always believed that he had belonged to no one before England came along. Canada had belonged to (and had been _quite_ attached to) France before England had seized control over him. Because of that, England didn't expect Canada to adore him the way America did, but the boy didn't have to act so terrified of him! Honestly, it was not like England was going to roast the boy on a spit and have him for dinner!

When England had first taken Canada under his wing, the boy's very presence seemed to only be a constant reminder of America. They looked so much alike, it was uncanny. Every time England looked at Canada, all he could think about was America. He had yearned to see his darling little brother so often while he had been taking care of Canada alone. Instead, all he had was a boy who looked like America, but acted nothing like him. Instead of running to tackle England with hugs, Canada would back away from England. Instead of chatting happily with England, Canada could only mumble broken English with a disgusting French accent. England did not hold anything against Canada for disliking him so. England was used to it. If only Canada did not look like an exact replica of the one person in the entire world whom England prayed would _never_hate him. Watching Canada reject him had been like watching America reject him. Spending time alone with Canada had only made England long to see America more. All of this also caused England's temper to be shorter with the "fake America."

England found Canada's shy attitude annoying and his constant silence unsettling. He never knew what Canada was thinking, and that really got on his nerves. The boy appeared small and weak, but England could tell that he had a special inner strength of his own. England knew that he could do everything in his power to try and change Canada, but deep down, a part of the boy would always be French. England didn't trust anything French. He was careful around Canada because of this. He tried to be as fair as he believed he should be in his governing of Canada, and he tried to make sure that the boy didn't lack for anything. But at the same time, he didn't want to give Canada any special treatment. England sadly ended up falling back on asserting his authority as much as possible on Canada when he was around him. England's extremes, like his temper flares and tendency to use his domineering personality to the point of scaring Canada, were typically unintentional. England didn't realize he was being cruel most of the time. It was how England was used to behaving in public. He did not know how else to treat the poor kid. To keep himself from feeling guilty whenever he actually recognized that he was being harsh, England would tell himself that it was probably necessary to make sure that Canada understood who was in charge, anyway—just in case he should ever have any thoughts of rebellion.

England sighed to himself; now almost finished with his task. He was positive that Canada despised him. It was understandable, but as far as he could see, there was nothing he could do about that.

* * *

Some time passed, and the boys continued to play, while England continued his work in the kitchen.

"Are ya done, yet?" America asked, getting impatient.

Canada strained to place the last block on the top of their tower. "I cannot reach…"

America stood on his tip-toes. "Dat better?" he called up.

"Y-yes," Canada said as he steadied himself. He was standing on America's shoulders. America was holding his ankles for support.

While England had been away, the boys had built tower after tower. Each one, more impressive than the last. When they had finally reached the point when they realized that they could not build any higher, America had come up with the "standing on top of the shoulders" idea to solve the problem. At first, he had just climbed on top of Canada when the idea had hit him and had told Canada to "hold still" when the boy had protested. The first few attempts at this plan had not gone very well. They had both kept falling over and/or knocking down their beautiful towers in the process. America had had his heart set on being the one on top, but no matter how hard they tried, they could not manage to stay upright like that. Frustrated, America had finally consented to try switching the positions. That had worked wonders. Canada had been wobbly under America's weight, but America made a great steady base. Canada was also infinitely better at balancing in the air than America had been. They were able to build many towers like that with little difficulty. The one they were working on at the moment was certainly the best, by far.

"I did it!" Canada squeaked, happily when he finally got the final block in place.

America cheered in victory at the announcement. "Yay!"

Suddenly, the boys toppled backwards in all of their excitement with a collective "Whoa!" They both fell on their backs. America shot up and crawled over to Canada.

"You okay?"

Canada rubbed the back of his head. "Yes, thank you."

America helped him up, and they both stared in awe at the finished tower.

"Itn't it gweat?" America boasted on their newest creation.

Canada nodded, feeling pride welling up inside him, as well. It was pretty impressive. After a few seconds, America turned to Canada with a spark of anticipation in his eyes.

"Weady?" he asked, looking like he could not hold it back anymore.

Canada could feel a yawn coming. It was getting later, and he was starting to get tired. He walked over to his bear, who was a few feet away and sitting next to America's rabbit. The boys had placed their animals together so that they would not be lonely. Canada sat down and lifted his toy up.

"No. I think I will watch this time," he told America as he snuggled his bear.

"AW!" America looked let down. "Ya sure?"

Canada gave another nod. "You can go on, if you want to. I do not mind."

"Well…" America shifted back and forth; unsure of what to do. He looked at the blocks, and then he looked back at Canada. "Okay…if ya weally don't care…. CHARGE!"

America took a flying leap at his and Canada's masterpiece. He toppled most of it on the first tackle. Whatever was left standing, America took down by any creative means he could come up with. He kicked, hit, and used other blocks as projectiles to knock down any remnants that dared to stand upright (creating his own sound effects for each mighty collapse in the process). Sometimes, he would even shout crazy things about there being a giant monster on the loose. Canada had to giggle out loud at America's antics. That only encouraged America to put on a better show. The whole procedure dragged on longer than usual. When he was at last satisfied, the boy finally collapsed to rest on his back in the middle of his wreckage.

America loved creating and building things, but he also appreciated the fine art of destruction. According to him, half the fun of building their towers was that they would get to knock them down later! Every time the boys had finished a block project, America had led Canada in smashing the buildings to smithereens. And each and every time the product of all their hard work was laid to ruins all over the room, America would excitedly gather it all back up and begin making plans to rebuild their block tower bigger and better than before. That was how the boys had ended up standing on top of each other. America had kept insisting that the towers needed to be taller and taller.

Sure enough, when America was recovered from his latest rampage, he sat up, threw a few blocks in the air and shouted:

"Wet's build it again, but BIGGER!"

Canada almost jumped up to help, but a voice cut in on the pair.

"Bed time," England decreed, as he stepped back into the room.

Canada flinched. He turned around to face England. Before Canada could do anything else, he felt a small hand snatch up his own.

"You gotta catch us first!" America challenged with a smile. With that, he dashed off, dragging a reluctant Canada close behind him.

Canada was mortified! "What are you doing?" he fiercely whispered to America once they were out of the room. "You are going to make him mad!"

"No I won't!" America laughed. "We do dis all da time!"

America ducked under a table. Canada had no choice but to follow, unless he wanted to get used to a life without an arm. America put a hand over his lips in a "shushing" motion once they were hidden. Canada waited nervously. England's boots suddenly appeared in the room. Canada gulped while England slowly paced the room around them.

"Hm…I wonder…" England playfully mused out loud. "Where could they have got to?"

Next to him, Canada could hear America trying to suppress his giggles. He was sure that England could hear it, too. He hugged his bear close. America squeezed Canada's hand.

"See?" he turned to encourage his partner in crime. He was confident that Canada was having fun, too. "It's a game."

The large boots came to a stop in front of them.

"I do not think I like this game," Canada whispered back.

Without warning, England's face suddenly descended under the table. America gave a squeal of delight. Canada squealed as well, but not from enjoyment. England tried to grab the two, but America ducked and pulled Canada out of reach.

"WUN!" he shouted. They crawled furiously to the other side of the table, where they escaped and ran off once more.

"You can't escape from me that easily!" England called in mock anger.

"Yes we can!" America called over his shoulder. "You'll nevuh catch us!"

Canada just wanted this game to stop, but America kept running and pulling him along. The boys rounded a corner. For a moment, it looked like they had lost England. America was tugging Canada towards another doorway.

"We can hide in here!"

Just as they were about to cross the threshold of their new hiding spot, England jumped out of nowhere. He had taken a short-cut and snuck into the same room that the boys where going to hide in from another entrance. He now blocked the doorway with a satisfied smirk on his face. The older brother's sudden appearance made the toddlers almost jump out of their skin.

America automatically whirled around to retreat but collided with Canada, who had been too stunned to move. Canada fell back and America plopped down on top of him. Momentarily dazed by the collision, America released Canada's hand and both boys rubbed the bumps on their foreheads.

England didn't give boys time to collect themselves again. He took the opportunity to attack his helpless prey. Reaching down, he caught America around his torso.

"Gotcha!"

"EEEEEEEEK!" America screeched.

Canada felt the heavy load of America diminish as England lifted the tickled boy up in the air. America playfully fought to get free. As he was pulled away from his terrified twin, he wiggled and tried to grab onto Canada. He managed to catch the arm of Canada's bear. When Canada felt his teddy bear being pulled away too, he didn't even think about it. He did what any kid with a loving attachment to a toy would do: he shut his eyes, tightened arms around the bear, and held onto it with everything he had!

_RIP!_

* * *

CLIFFHANGER! Sorry this took so long, if anyone is still reading it. I'll try my best to update more often. I tried to get into England's head a little in this chapter. Not sure if I succeeded. I'll fix any mistakes later.


	5. Playmates Part 4

It had all happened so fast: England jerking America off of Canada, America grabbing onto Canada's bear in a desperate attempt to stay on the ground, and Canada reacting by clinging onto his bear with all his might. Immediately following his instinctive action, Canada had felt himself lifting off the ground slightly. Then, the sickening _RIIIIIIIIIP_ had sounded out, and Canada had felt his body descend briefly. He now found himself firmly planted on the floor once more. As soon as he had landed, Canada had heard all of the commotion in the room die. Where there had been the sounds of laughter and play, there was now an uncomfortable silence. Neither England nor America were making a sound. Canada remained curled around his bear in a protective pose. He had a feeling something horrible had happened. The silence around him caused the feeling to intensify. Deep down, he had an idea of what had happened. He dreaded opening his eyes and seeing it for himself, but curiosity was urgently demanding that he check the condition of his best friend!

He silently prayed that all of this was a dream. When he opened his eyes, he would be back home, in his own bed, with own brother, far, far, FAR away from this place. He opened a cautious eye. There stood England and America above him. They looked as if they had been shocked into a stupor. England was looking down at him, completely speechless, with an awkward stunned/slightly concerned expression. America, still dangling in England's grasp, was staring in horror, with his mouth agape, at what he held in his own hands: the lone, snowy-white arm of Canada's bear.

For a tiny fraction of a second, Canada joined his brother in gaping at the gruesome sight. He watched helplessly as the stuffing rolled out of the torn opening at the end of the soft arm and flowed gently down to the ground; almost like snow. Then, Canada awoke from his short spell, and shot up in a sitting position. With desperately quick reflexes, he held his bear out in front of him, as if he had to fully confirm his fears.

There was no denying it.

The bear's arm was gone.

The very room itself seemed to be holding its breath while it waited for Canada's reaction. Strangely, Canada found that he could only gawk at his bear in disbelief; his little brain not quite registering what his eyes were seeing. It took some time (how much time, Canada never knew. He had felt as if the world had crashed to a stop and time had frozen), but the reality slowly began to sink in. His bear…the one that his brother, France, had given him…his favorite toy…his constant companion…his special friend…it really was…missing an arm…it was…ruined.

This was a devastating blow to the sensitive child. His poor bear! His imagination told him that his toy must be in so much pain. How could this have happened? The bear that Canada had loved so much had just been ripped apart right in front of him. He had tried to protect it, but it had happened anyway. His most cherished possession in all the world was destroyed! Nothing could ever replace it. As if being forcibly separated from the closest thing he had to a father, and then handed over to scary England had not been bad enough! But now _this_? Even his teddy-bear, his only security blanket, wasn't safe? Did the universe hate Canada, or something?

Feeling hit with an unbearable sense of loss, Canada at last began respond to the tragedy. His little hands tightened their grip on the bear. His brow lowered. His teeth clenched. A long, quiet whining sound slowly began to emit from him, as beads of tears quickly gathered at the edges of his eyes.

The high-pitched whine brought America out of his own shock. Upon turning his attention to Canada, America's already wide eyes became even wider with alarm. He knew that look. He began thrashing furiously against England.

"PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWN!" he demanded.

England obliged, but because of America's thrashing, he was forced to do so slowly—Too slow for America's taste. The boy squirmed all the more in an attempt to further communicate that he had to get down NOW. England was doing his best. He would have gladly placed America back on solid ground if that was what he desired, but all the struggling was making it hard for England to keep a hold on the boy. He really had to concentrate on lowering America and keeping a careful grip on the boy, lest he drop him.

And so, despite America's unnecessary flailing, he was gently lowered to the floor. The hyper child was on his knees, in front of Canada, practically the instant his toes had touched the hard-wood. The first thing America did was make a move to hug Canada or pat him. He wanted to give him some kind of consoling touch, but something was making him hesitate. Canada looked dangerously close to a breaking point. His drawn-out whine was like the warning signs for a storm. That threatening whine sounded like it could easily morph into an inconsolable wail at any moment. The trembling and watery-eyed Canadian looked so fragile and delicate in his distress, that America was convinced merely tapping him with one finger would cause him to crumble to pieces just like one of their unbalanced block towers. Being unable to touch Canada, America settled for waving his arms around, frantically.

"Wait! No! Don't cwy!" America flung his pleas at Canada in super-hurried speech, as more white puff balls were flung out of the bear's cloth arm (which America was still holding in one of his waving hands) and all around the room. "I'm sowy! I didn't mean too! It was an accident!"

Stuffing was flying in all directions now. America kept an unconscious, but tight, hold on the paw, and the torn limb attached to it was roughly slung about. White fluff landed all around the boys. Some came to rest on Canada's head, but he did not seem to notice. America's loud apologies and actions did nothing to change Canada's state. He kept his distraught focus on his bear; seemingly unaware of America's presence. His whine was still going strong (and was still impressively fueled by the same breath that had first released it). Then, all at once, America stopped waving his arms. On a new impulse, he reached out to touch Canada's bear.

"It's alwight!" he confidently continued to shout (just as much for he own assurance as his brother's). "Engwand can fix it!"

That triggered the storm.

Canada jerked away from America. "NO!" he squeaked forcefully.

Now in full-fledged tears, Canada clutched his injured bear in both arms and lay huddled on top of it so no one could touch it. America was surprised at first, but he did not let Canada's refusal discourage him. Again and again he tried to pry Canada away from his bear. He crawled around Canada in a fruitless attempt to find an opening, all the while shouting encouraging statements over Canada's sobbing. He kept trying to coax Canada to give the bear to the older brother for repairs, but Canada wouldn't budge. Letting America hold his bear was one thing, but Canada was _NOT_ going to give it up to England! What if Canada didn't get it back? As far as Canada was concerned, England had taken away everything else from his old life. England had taken his brother, his language, his food, his friendship with the Indians, he had even taken Canada's own _name_! What if he took his precious bear too? What if England thought that the damaged bear was not worth fixing? What if he decided to just throw it out? Canada couldn't let that happen! Ruined or not, that bear was all he had left!

"Come on, Maf'oo! Just give it! It'll be okay, weally!"

Canada didn't even hear America. He was now totally lost in his grief. America pressed on through Canada's wails.

"You can—"

"ENOUGH!"

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut in on all the disorder. The boys froze in place. America stopped his advances. Canada visibly cringed. (His weeping didn't stop, but the volume of it dramatically decreased) Of course, the thundering voice belonged to none other than England. He had been watching the mounting chaos with uncertainty up until now, but he had finally decided to interject before it got worse.

* * *

Sorry this is so short! I feel so bad for making anyone reading this wait so long, and this is all you get for now! The reason this took so long is a mixture of life, sickness, and holiday hassles. Writers block also helped. It's like I knew what I wanted to happen, but I was never happy with how I wrote it out on paper! It's clearing up now, and I just realized that I was pretty happy with this little chunk, so I might as well give anyone waiting for this _something_ to read. Hopefully I can get the next part up later tonight when I have more time. Comments from those still reading would be greatly appreciated! They might give me extra motivation to knuckle down and finish this sucker. Anyway, hope this satisfies for now. (After stressing over this for so long, somebody out there has to like this!)


	6. Playmates Part 5

When the bear had ripped, England had frozen with initial shock right along with the boys. The first thing he had felt, looking down at the damage, was a slight prick of guilt. The man had known that it was partly his fault that the bear had been ripped. Immediately following this feeling, it had occurred to England that Canada would most likely be extremely upset when he noticed what had happened to the thing that he so obviously treasured. Canada was so attached to his bear, that England had even taken to using the bear as an identifier for Canada when he was not sure which twin was which. Canada was "the one with the bear." (Yet, for some strange reason, it remained difficult for the helpless England to tell Canada apart from America) Now that said special bear was damaged, Canada was sure to be crushed.

England had known right off that he should do something about the situation, however, his mind had blanked out on _what _exactly. He was still very new to dealing with children, and he was even more inexperienced when it came to giving comfort. Since England's brain had apparently not wanted to cooperate and give him clues as to what he should do, England had been forced to just stand there like an idiot and wait for the unavoidable. The future expression of a "deer in headlights" would have described England very well while he waited for Canada to realize what had happened to his bear.

Then, things had gotten even more embarrassing for the tongue-tied Brit. America had been the first to act after Canada had seen his bear. When he saw that, England had told himself that the time had come for him make some sort of move as well. He couldn't stand by and let a panicking child do his job…but that was what he had ended up doing anyway.

England had cursed himself at that moment for being so silly! He wasn't _that_ inexperienced at handling a distressed child! He had given comfort to his little America before! That's when it had hit him: if the boys were switched and America was the one who was upset, England realized that he would have grabbed up America without a second thought. He would have hugged America close, maybe rocked him a bit, and softly assured him that all would be well. Canada shouldn't be any different! Why was it so hard for England to do the same to him? Why had it not immediately occurred to England to do that…and why didn't he do it now?

The truth was that England hesitated because he had doubted his ability to console Canada. England did not have the same established relationship with Canada that he had with America. Canada would more likely than not refuse any comfort he might offer. England was well aware the he was not exactly the boy's favorite person.

The tension had mounted on England the longer he stood there, being useless. The increasing noise had made matters worse. He couldn't think! By the time England had finally forced himself to do _something_ (that something being explode with frustration), he was thoroughly annoyed by the Canada's crying, America's senseless prattling, and his own incompetence.

* * *

Getting back to the present, England could see that he had startled the boys after his outburst. He silently battered himself with a few more choice curses as he closed his eyes and pinched his nose. He had to remain calm. He was the adult. He had to remain in control. England took a few deep breaths to will himself to relax.

Unfortunately, the sounds of Canada's muffled sobs were cutting in on England's attempt to calm his annoyed mood. England felt all the more annoyed with that, especially after he had just made a clear demand for order. The tall blond opened his eyes and shot an angry glare down on Canada. Still feeling inadequate, but having no other choice but to deal with the situation somehow, England took a step forward and got down on one knee.

America moved aside to make room for the eldest that bent down in front of the curled-up Canadian. He watched his big brother with hope that he could make everything better. (Alas, the longer he watched England, the more he realized that things were not going the way he had hoped)

"Canada, stop that this instant! Crying isn't going to solve anything," England started by reprimanding Canada before reaching out a hand to feel under the boy for the bear that was being shielded from the world. "Give me the bear, and I'll—"

Canada gave a small cry and shifted away from England's touch with another quick jerk.

Irritated, but undaunted, the Englishman tried again. "None of that, now. I only—"

The same thing happened again. As soon as England made another attempt to take the bear, Canada stubbornly blocked him with his body. This time, England mentally cursed the unreasonable child. But England had a strong will of his own. He was going to get that bear, with or without Canada's consent. Canada was just being difficult. He could fight all he wanted now, but England told himself that Canada would thank him later. So he tried to take the bear by force again. And again. And again. And again.

America watched from his spot off to the side as the same things happened over and over again: England would try to take Canada's bear, and Canada would gingerly squirm away. As he watched all this unfold, America began to worry for his new twin. He could tell that England was getting more aggravated by the second. America's worrying went up a notch when he remembered Canada explaining that he was afraid of England. America figured that with the way England was acting now, Canada must be scared to death! He also noticed that England's words were becoming increasingly harsh every time the distraught toddler evaded his efforts to take the polar bear.

"Give it here—"

DODGE

"Come now, hand it over—"

DUCK

"For the last time, stop that ridiculous sniveling—"

SCOOT

"_Canada_—"

SHIFT

"Just—"

BLOCK

"I'm losing my patience!"

Not surprisingly, nothing that England said seemed to be working. Canada was hysterical, yet he somehow managed to stay focused on keeping his bear away from England. America watched the scene anxiously until England let out a loud, intense exhale. Things weren't looking good.

And they _weren't_ good. England had just about had it with Canada! It was just a stupid stuffed animal! It wasn't worth all this fuss! (In fact, there were very few things in the world that England believed truly warranted tears, and a broken toy was certainly _not_ one of them) And not only was Canada disobeying England's orders to bring his senseless whining to an end, but he was also refusing to cooperate and hand over his bear to England. How hard could that be? England was just trying to offer his assistance. Where did that French colony get the nerve to refuse his kind gesture so obstinately?

"Listen carefully, you insolent little whelp," England's voice had lowered, and his tone was laced with a _very serious _warning. "You are going to catch it, if you do not cease your blubbering and hand over that silly bear."

Over to the side, America gulped at England's words of warning. England was even starting to scare _him_ now. He looked at Canada, who gave no response other than more sobs. America shifted his weight back and forth with more worry. Why couldn't Canada just do what England wanted? Couldn't he see that England just wanted to help?

Inside little Canada's mind, he was only just starting to think clearly again. Ever since the moment he had collapsed on his bear, his brain and body had basically been going on auto-pilot. He was so upset over his toy, that he had not really been thinking or completely listening to what was said to him. All he had known for sure was that he was heartbroken (hence the unstoppable tears), and that he had to keep what was left of his bear safe at all costs. He was protecting his bear with the instincts of a mother protecting her child. England's new serious voice had finally gotten Canada's full attention.

The Canadian boy began to tremble, for he now realized with despair that he was in a lose-lose situation. He was terrified of what England might do to him for his deliberate disobedience. He certainly didn't want to "catch it," but he held his ground all the same. The normally timid boy could be stubborn when he wanted to. He was even more afraid of losing his bear. No, that was where he drew the line. Was it really so bad that he wanted to keep it? Why couldn't America and England just leave him alone?

"I am counting to three," England spoke again with the same threatening tone.

Canada and England didn't notice, but America paled at that simple statement. No! Not the counting! He knew Canada was in for it now, unless he straightened up!

"If the bear is not in my hands by the time I am finished," England continued on. "I am going to give you a real cause to cry."

…or unless someone came to his rescue…

"One."

Canada kept his trembling position.

"T—OH!"

England didn't make it past "one." Canada slightly (_very _slightly) relaxed when he noticed that England's count had been interrupted. He didn't know why England had stopped at mid "two," but he was too nervous to look up. He kept his head down and tried to hide his sniffles while he hugged his now three-legged bear.

What had interrupted England was a surprise blow to his side that had knocked him flat on the ground. Dazed, (and more than slightly irritated) England quickly opened his eyes to find…America. England was momentarily shocked to see America sitting on his chest. America looked just as surprised as England. After a moment, he gave England a nervous smile. England frowned at that. Apparently, America had tackled him for some unknown reason, but had not planned any further ahead than that. The boy looked as if he didn't know what to do now, and was kind of hoping that England would just forget the whole thing.

Yeah right.

"What do you think you're doing?" England demanded to know.

America leaned away from England's shout. His smile turned into a facial cringe. He looked over his shoulder at Canada, then back at England. Wincing as if he had no other choice, the troubled toddler shut his eyes and slammed both hands on England's opening mouth before the older nation could say anything more.

America was felling sick inside. He had promised Canada that he would be his big brother and protect him, but he was not sure how he to stand up to England. England was mad, and the only thing America could think to do for the moment was keep him quiet so that he wouldn't scare Canada any more.

America soon felt England swat away his hands. Knowing what was coming, America acted on instinct again. He braved opening his eyes to look at England, who was about to say something. As England took a breath to speak, America held a finger to his own mouth.

"_SHUSH!_"

The colony said nothing more, but his normally cherub-like face had an intense "Please just let me handle this!" look. Something about America's desperate expression made England forget what he was going to say. Somehow, America's silent plea had gotten through to England. It was at least good enough to make him pause and defuse much of his anger.

America took this opportunity to hop off of England and rush back to Canada. America had decided to try to calm his Canadian brother one more time. He was positive that if he could just get Canada to willingly give the bear to England, everything would be ok. That was all he had to do! It was simple! If England would just give him enough time, he could do that!

England sat up and watched curiously as America got on his knees, close to Canada. Canada seemed to flinch as if he sensed a presence in front of him. America bent down close and whispered to him.

"Hey…it's okay," he patted Canada's head as he spoke. "He just wants ta help," then, as if he could tell what Canada was worried about, he added "He'll give 'em back when he's done."

Canada's now softer crying appeared to hitch for a brief moment. America knew he was listening. He smiled encouragingly and turned to England for the needed confirmation.

"Won't cha, Engwand?" he asked. "You'll give it back, wight?"

England was caught off guard. "Y-yes," he finally answered. Was that really what Canada was worried about? He had thought that it was obvious that the boy would get it back. What would England want with a stuffed toy?

America grinned and turned back to Canada. "See? He won't hurt 'em. He'll make 'em all better! I pwomise!"

Canada was listening, but he still wouldn't relent. He felt kind of bad for America. He knew his playmate was trying to help, but all attempts to reason with him only made him more determined to hold onto his bear. His childish mind had made itself up that he was not going to be reasoned with.

Predictably, America didn't give up easily. He rubbed Canada's back, spoke comfortingly, he did everything he could think to do, even though it seemed to be no use. Canada cried soundly and kept his protective position over his little friend.

America's compassion must have been contagious, because England was starting to feel a little sympathy for the crying child. Watching the tiny America try his hardest to sooth his playmate was adorably sweet, and it was beginning to soften England. England sighed. He frowned to himself as he tried to shake away those doting feelings that were creeping up on him again. He couldn't let his emotions run away with him. Thanks to those two pups, this entire ordeal had dragged on much longer than it should have. England was gathering himself together so that he could put his foot down and end this…but then he heard something change in America's voice.

"Pwease don't be sad. Come on. Just wet Engwand have 'em, okay? Pwease? Don't cwy. D-don't…don't…"

Oh no. Was _America_ starting to cry now? England felt his stomach turn in knots. Great, big, guilty knots. He couldn't take this. He couldn't stand to have _both_boys crying!

England could sense the compassion sneaking in once more as he watched his little colony breaking down under all the pressure. Poor America seemed to think that it was his responsibility to console his bother and make everything right. He was just a little boy. He shouldn't have to shoulder that kind of heavy burden, and England felt absolutely terrible for making the boy feel like he needed to step up like that. He was sure he had caused America to feel that way, somehow. England ran a hand through his hair and let out another sigh. He was not expecting it to do any good, but he would try a different tactic (for America's sake if for nothing else).

England reached out and put a hand on America's heaving back. America looked up; teary-eyed and worried, but England gave him a reassuring nod. The larger man gently nudged America out of the way. America sniffed and wiped under his nose with his sleeve as he moved aside. England took America's position in front of Canada. Looking down at the boy scrunched up before him, he swallowed. The uncomfortable empire attempted to change his tone of voice from earlier to a softer one.

"Canada?"

Canada's breath hitched again at England's voice.

"…May I see your bear?"

Canada's body curled tighter around his plush friend.

England was patient. "You do not have to give him to me, and I won't take him from you," he said calmly. "I simply want to have a quick look at him."

Canada didn't move. America looked like he was going to say something, but England held him back. It was barely noticeable, but England could swear that Canada's cries were starting to calm. If there was a chance that England was getting through to him, he didn't want to give up, yet.

"I might be able to mend him," England carefully offered; feeling like he was walking on glass. "However, I won't know unless I am able to inspect the damage. Do you think you might hold him up a bit, for me to see? That's all I want. I won't make you give him up, if that is not what you wish."

America and England watched in awe as Canada, slowly but surely, began to calm down. Canada's energy was drained. His tear supply had reached its limit, apparently refueled itself, and then been sucked dry for the 2nd time that night. He thought about what England was saying while his body came down from all the drama he had just gone through. Well…England did say that he could _keep_ his bear, and he _sounded_ sincere…not that that meant anything, though. Canada was still not sure if England could be trusted. But…he knew that he only get into trouble again if he ignored England. Maybe it was worth the risk…maybe he could let his bear come out of hiding—just for a second. And Canada could hold on tight, and be ready to put the bear back under him if England tried anything.

Whimpering, sniffling, and hiccuping the whole time, Canada finally began to move. First, he shifted and warily pushed himself off the ground. He trembled, trying to keep balance. He felt weak from crying and from being in a tense position for so long. His legs under him were asleep. With one arm around his bear's neck, he gradually was able to sit up. He used his other arm to dab at his eyes, before wrapping it around his bear, as well.

He sat shivering for a moment, not looking at England or America. Slowly, his hands moved to hold the bear by its sides. Then, even more slowly, his bear was lifted up. Bit by bit, Canada raised his bear for England to see.

England witnessed it all with barely contained excitement. He couldn't believe it was actually working! He was tempted to rush Canada, but he kept his composure.

"There's a good lad!" he encouraged when Canada held up the bear. "Hold him still, now." England leaned in for a better look. Canada retracted the bear apprehensively, but kept it where England could see it well enough. "Hm…" England hummed as he studied the bear's "open wound." "Looks as if your little friend has hurt himself," he commented.

Canada gripped his bear.

_And whose fault is that?_

He thought angrily to himself.

Suddenly, England smiled. He leaned back to his original pose. "Not to worry, it doesn't look too bad."

Canada wanted to scream! "_Doesn't look too bad?_" His bear had a whole ARM missing! How could England say something like that?

England unknowingly cut in on Canada's mental rant. "I'm certain I can put him back together again."

Canada hugged his bear. He looked England in the eye.

"If I may?" England added with a slightly outstretched hand. His expression was reassuring.

Canada dropped his gaze and locked his arms around his bear; prepared to put up another fight if he had to. He imagined that the floor was England and he gave it a distrustful look. He expected England to react negatively to his attitude, but he was surprised.

"It's just as America said," England spoke with the same patient tone as before. "It won't take long at all. I will be very gentle with him, and you can have him back as soon as it's done. You have my word."

Canada rocked his bear back and forth. He remained undecided.

"I'm sure your friend will feel much better once he's all patched up," England added.

That made Canada stop and think. He was amazed to find himself actually considering England's offer. The thought of having his bear fixed _was_ tempting. He was unconscious of his slowly loosening grip as he mulled all this over. Still, this was England he was talking about. What if this was all some kind of English trick? At a loss, Canada held his bear out a bit so that he could look at its furry face. He stared into his bear's shiny eyes as if to get the consent of his faithful companion before he made any decision.

Unbeknownst to Canada, America had been watching his every move closely. America was itching for Canada to give England the bear, already! If only he would, then England would fix it, and Canada would be happy again. What was holding him back? This was a no-brainer! He especially hoped that Canada would chose to let England help, because he thought that maybe if England restored the bear, Canada might see that England wasn't scary at all, and they could be friends!

It looked like to America, that Canada was just on the edge of deciding to give up his animal. Impatient, and eager to help England get the patient; America saw an opening, and he took it. With perfect speed, he snatched the bear away before Canada could make any protest. He stood between Canada and England and held both the bear and the severed limb up to his big brother.

"Here!"

* * *

Done! Man, it's hard to write from 3 different points of view! Again, I hope I did the inside of England's head justice. Canada's going to grow on him, soon. Hope you like! I'll fix any mistakes later. Too tired...


	7. Playmates Part 6

England was initially startled by America when the boy had grabbed Canada's bear, jumped in front of him, and shoved the animal in his own face. But the nation was still for only a half a second before he quickly recovered; realizing that this was probably the best chance he would get to take the bear. He was a little disappointed all the same because he had been honestly hoping that Canada would give up the bear on his own accord. And Canada just might have, if America hadn't butted in, but it would do no good for England to worry about what _might _have happened by now. The facts were that the object the Englishman had been fighting to get from an unwilling party had finally been procured and was being freely offered to him. England decided that the best thing for him to do would be to take the bear while he had the golden opportunity and forget for the moment the lost possibility of the small Canadian's trust and cooperation. With a quick huff, England took the remnants of the stuffed bear from America.

America smiled proudly as England took the bear. Behind him, Canada watched in horror. He had been caught off guard by America's steal and had been too surprised to react for the first few seconds that had followed. When his mind had caught up with what was happening, all he could manage to do was reach his hand out and whine in objection of his twin's actions. Of course, the weak attempt had come too late and too softly to have an effect on either of his tormentors. Now, as he helplessly witnessed England taking his bear right in front of his eyes, the boy's instincts began to kick in. He jumped up and rushed forward. Sure, he had been considering giving the bear to England anyway, but in his own good time! This was all moving too fast for him. He didn't give his twin permission to hurry the process along by stealing his toy and giving it to England himself! The nerve! He wanted to stop the unauthorized hand off, but his reactions were once again, too slow. England had the bear before Canada could get to him.

Canada frantically tried to push America aside. He had to get his bear back! America stumbled at the sudden prodding from behind, but he immediately regained balance and stood his ground. While England hastily gathered up the puffs of stuffing on the floor, America held Canada back. Canada's cried out, and his efforts increased as he became more desperate to reclaim his captured friend. He tried to maneuver around America, but the other boy was on guard. America effortlessly kept up with all of Canada's movements. He stuck to Canada as if he was his reflection, and stood in his way with arms held out to block passage. All the while, America wore a pained, but determined expression. He returned Canada's pleading glances with apologetic ones. He didn't really like holding his new brother back like that, but he had convinced himself that it was for Canada's own good.

Frustrated, Canada lunged at America. He pushed at him with all his strength. America fell back with Canada on top of him. "Sorry," Canada muttered (more out of habit than anything else), as he started to push himself off of America. He honestly didn't care much that he had knocked America down. At least he was free to move forward, now.

But thinking fast, America wrapped his arms around Canada's waist to keep him from continuing any further. Canada moaned in complaint, but was far from giving up. He put his hands to the ground and attempted to crawl forward. America's reaction was to this was to squeeze tighter; trying desperately to hold the other colony back until England had everything he needed.

England simply ignored the sibling's struggle; choosing instead to concern himself with the task at hand. In his mind, the sooner the bear was mended, the better. He worked without a word until he had picked up all of the fluff in sight.

"Right then," England muttered to himself once he was finished.

The children stopped what they were doing and looked up when they heard England speak softly. They saw England stand up with his arms full and walk off. America's arms slacked just enough for Canada to wriggle loose. The boy was after England as soon as he was free. America got up and joined his brother in the pursuit. The boys trailed behind their guardian; having to walk quickly in order to keep up with his long, hurried strides.

"So, you can fix it, wight Engwand?" America prodded the tall empire; hoping to get a little extra reassurance for his twin, who was looking sick to his stomach. "I'll bet you can make it just wike it was, before. Maybe better! Wight? Wight, Engwand?"

In front of him, England kept his brisk pace without acknowledging the boys. England had not even begun fixing the bear, but he was already starting to get lost in his work. Creating delicious food might not have been his forte, but sewing and embroidery were some skills in which he excelled. He prided himself on what he could do with a needle and thread. England was such a perfectionist in this area of handcrafts, that his mind was actually getting an early start on his new project by going through the steps he would have to take to flawlessly mend the bear. With his mind occupied on these matters, England only partly listened to America's questions.

"I'll see what I can do, Alfred," England grumbled without giving much thought to his answer.

Getting back to Canada, the boy was feeling anxious beyond belief! England had his bear now, and was holding it far out of his reach. There was no way Canada could get his friend now. Before, he had been willing to fight to keep it away from England, but now that England had it, the Canadian felt like there was nothing he could do. He felt that he couldn't possibly reclaim his toy from the tall, scary country. All Canada felt like he could do, was wait and watch to see what England would do.

"Don't worry!" America spoke from Canada's side. "Engwand can fix _anything_! I bweak stuff all da time, and he always fixes everything—just like magic!"

Canada squeezed his hands together as they walked. America talked on and filled Canada's ear with confident encouragements. He spoke of how good his big brother was at restoring anything and everything; giving examples of past repair jobs that England had had to undertake, thanks to his uncontrollable strength. But Canada didn't have any interest in America's stories. He kept his eyes on England.

England walked down the hallway until he came to a closet. He opened its door and rummaged through it for a few moments before he saw what he was looking for on a top shelf. With a small hum of success, England stretched his arm out to grab his sewing basket. It had all the equipment he would need, along with some scrap cloths, a few unfinished embroidery projects, and some ribbon. England felt sure of himself now that he was armed with his large basket. England turned around with the basket in one hand and the remains of the stuffed animal in the other, intending to seek out a comfortable place to work.

"Oh!" England exclaimed with a start when he almost tripped over the tots that had been standing right behind him. The Englishman was surprised to see the boys there. He had been concentrating so intently on the job that had to be done, that he had almost forgotten about his little colonies. At some point, both Canada and America had become quiet. England now looked down at the pair, feeling almost nervous for some reason, as they stared up at him with expectant little eyes.

"Ah…" he began; not sure how to address the little ones at first. He finally lifted up his sewing basket to show that he had retrieved the important kit that he had gone to search for. "I-I'll get to it, then," he explained quickly. "Won't be long."

England scooted to the side of the boys and continued down the hall in the direction from which they had come. He expected that the boys would run along to play or something, and leave him to his work. To his surprise, they followed right behind him. He could hear the pitter-patter of their feet as they stuck close to him. The empire glanced over his shoulder to see Canada at his heels with America coming next in line. Canada was looking up at him; worried. America was trying to give Canada some encouragement once more.

"Engwand's weal good at sewing! You'll see! He'll fix 'em up good as new in no time! Wook, see?" here, America lifted up a part of his long shirt. "I fell down and tore my cwothes here, but Engwand put it wight back together again!"

England slowed his pace. He couldn't help looking over his shoulder again and again at his persistent hangers-on. It felt funny being followed by little children. This was yet another experience that he wasn't used to. His mind went back to all the times he had overheard people making comments on a passing mother being followed closely by a row of her children. What was it they always said? It resembled a mother duck with baby chicks? England decided right then that he didn't like that comparison any more. He was _not_a bloody mother duck! Still, he didn't have the heart to tell the cute kiddies off. Perhaps if he ignored them, they would go away?

But they didn't. They followed him right into the sitting room, much to England's dismay. England sighed and took a seat in a cushioned chair. He set the sewing basket down by his side. The kids took up positions on each side of the nation. England felt awkward, but said nothing about it.

To England's right, Canada was watching him closely. Canada watched anxiously as England assembled his broken bear out on his lap. He watched obsessively as England re-stuffed the arm of his bear. He gasped softly as he watched England take some white thread and a large needle out of the sewing basket. At the sight of that needle, Canada could already feel sympathy pains for his little friend. He rubbed his own shoulder; imagining how much it would hurt to have one's arm sewn back on one's body. The boy's breathing became heavy as he watched England thread the needle. He wasn't sure he wanted to watch this, but something inside made keep looking. He got as close as he could to England and watched nervously as England held his special bear together. He waited while England looked over the bear and resituated the arm again and again, as if he was trying to get it perfectly aligned. Once the British Empire seemed satisfied, he took the needle and appeared to search for just the right spot to start.

The anticipation was getting to Canada. He bounced back and forth on his heels. When England made the first prick into the fabric, Canada put his hands over his mouth and whimpered into them. He kept fidgeting nervously with each stitch that came after. He wanted to cry again for his poor bear! He really hoped that England was being careful. Most of all, he hoped that this torture would be over soon. For one of the first times he could remember, he actually felt like rushing something.

Meanwhile, Canada's actions were making England feel uneasy. He never liked it when someone would hover over him when he was trying to complete a task. And America wasn't exactly doing anything to improve England's situation, either.

Across from Canada, America was still going with stories of all the times England had saved the day with his sewing skills. That was another difference in the two colonies' personalities. Canada became even quieter when he was nervous. When America got nervous, he talked. He talked loudly, and he talked boldly.

"See dose curtains over there? Dis one time, I was cwimbin' up dem, and they got wipped all ta pieces! But Engwand used his sewing and fixed 'em up! And dis other time I…"

England's eyebrows knit together. He squinted at his work, and tried to block out the distractions around him. It was proving to be a hopeless effort. England simply couldn't concentrate with one child watching his moves so intently and the other one blabbing on endlessly. He needed to work in peace. Then, a solution came to him.

"America."

"And den—"

"Alfred!"

"Huh?" America put his story on hold and stared up at England.

"There are some fresh biscuits on the table in the kitchen. Why don't you take  
Canada and get one for each of you?"

America took a step back as if England had said something foreign. "But you said I can't have sweets before bedtime," he reminded England with an apprehensive frown.

"Yes, I know," England nodded. "I'll make an exception for tonight."

"Wow! Weally?" America exclaimed happily at his brother's generous decision. "Thanks! Come on, Maf'oo!"

America grabbed Canada's arm and ran for the kitchen. He didn't need to be told twice to go eat a cookie! The American completely forgot everything that had been going on, as he filled up with excitement over the prospect of an eatable treat.

Poor Canada had to cope with being dragged along by his twin once more. He leaned away from America's pull; truly trying to resist this time. He didn't want to leave his bear alone with England! But America's tugging was strong. Canada found that he couldn't plant his feet firmly enough to stop the forward motion.

Canada looked behind him at England, and tried to make an objection. "B-but—"

"Remember: Only one!" England's reminder to America drowned out Canada's words.

"Kay!" America called back to England; not listening to Canada, as well.

Canada groaned as he was forcibly separated from his favorite toy. He chose to give up fighting America—at least until America released him again. As he begrudgingly followed his brother, something told him that he was probably going to have to get used to this.

* * *

ABOUT TIME! SO sorry this took so long! I've had a busy past few months. Hope some of the original readers of this are still around.

So nothing much happens in this chapter, I guess. But the next one will be more interesting. I'll try to finish it by next week.


	8. Playmates Part 7

The boys quickly made their way into the kitchen; one giggling to himself, while the other followed along not quite as enthusiastically. America dropped Canada's wrist to run off on his own, as soon as they reached the middle of the room. Canada, who was very glad the running had stopped, stayed in place to catch his breath. Also very glad to get his arm back, he rubbed his wrist where America had been squeezing it.

Meanwhile, America's bare feet pattered their way up to a table in the kitchen. Once beside the table, America began jumping up and down. With every little jump, his eager eyes would peak over the top of the kitchen table and search for England's cookies. His sharp, baby blues finally caught sight of the treats resting on a tray at the opposite end of the table.

Canada still had his own eyes on his wrist. He had not been paying any attention to his bouncing brother. Concluding that his arm was ok, Canada was about to return to the room where England was working on his bear. America could have his biscuit; he wasn't interested in a snack at the moment. Just as Canada was about to turn to go, the little one was knocked off his feet by a streak of energy that dashed past him, without warning.

Canada "OOPH-ED" in surprise when he landed on his bottom. The boy looked up to see what had happened. He saw that his twin was no longer at the table, but was now at another part of the room, maneuvering a small stool around to face the table he had just left. Canada watched as America hurried to push the wooden stool past him and up to the table. When America was finished, he brushed his hands off, proudly, and then whipped his head around to face. Canada jumped at the sudden return of America's attention. America just grinned.

"What're ya waitin' for?" America yelled before charging the quiet boy on the ground.

Canada almost wanted to run away from the oncoming boy, but America got to him before he could decide on how to act.

"C'_mon_!"

Once again, Canada's arm was seized, and once again, he was pulled forward against his will. America led him to the table, and climbed up on his little stool. He reached a hand over the edge of the table to pull the tray of cookies closer. Canada sighed and waited while America combed through the cookies, looking for the best of the batch.

"One for me," Canada heard America say as he picked up a particularly big one, "and one for you!" the colony finished cheerfully, as he took another. Tightly holding the cookies in one hand, America hopped back to Canada's level. He released Canada, and held one of the cookies out to him. "Here ya go! This'll make ya feel better!" he told Canada with a smile.

Canada gulped. He held up his hands in an attempt to politely refuse, but America only shoved the cookie into Canada's open hands. Canada had no choice but to take it. America then appeared satisfied with the knowledge that he had done his duty in providing a delicious snack for his playmate. As soon as the cookie had been accepted, America sat down cross-legged in front of Canada. He didn't seem to want to waste any more time before getting to the snack.

Canada remained standing. America might have been happy, but Canada grimaced as he looked at what he had been given. The boy didn't know how a cookie made by England was supposed to make him feel better. How could he even think about eating at a time like this, anyway? There was no way he would be able to enjoy anything, knowing that his faithful bear was in the hands of England, at that very moment.

Down on the floor, America was licking his lips. The boy couldn't wait to attack his cookie. He opened his mouth wide for the first bite of his special treat. Fortunately, His eyes happened to glance upward as the top of his mouth rose. The boy on the ground paused in mid-bite, when he caught Canada looking sadly at his own cookie. With his mouth still hanging open, America frowned. Slowly, he lowered his cookie. He watched Canada just stand there in front of him with this hopeless look on his face. America felt confused and worried over his brother's countenance. Canada was supposed to be happy. They both held sugary goodness in the palm of their hands. What was there to be sad about? Maybe these weren't Canada's favorite cookie? Could Canada had been hoping for a different kind?

See, in America's excitement over being permitted to eat cookies before bedtime, he had almost forgotten everything else that had happened that night. America finally remembered the bear a few moments after he had started wondering what could be wrong with Canada, and once he did, the boy could feel himself beginning to shrink. He couldn't believe that he had already started to forget that important fact. The little American felt as if he was failing in the role which he had recently taken up. As the "big brother," he was supposed to keep his new little brother feeling safe and happy. America once again found himself wanting to help Canada, somehow. After all, that's what big brothers were for, right? As America looked down to think, he noticed his large cookie. It was then that America brightened. He instantly knew what he should do. It would be a sacrifice (just about the biggest sacrifice a kid his age could make), but if that's what it took to save Canada's day, he would do it…just this once. His decision made, America scooted himself closer to Canada to carry out his mission. If this didn't cheer his other half up, he didn't know what would!

Canada was still lost in thought over his bear, when he felt something grab the front of his clothes. A hard tug came next. Suddenly, Canada was sitting on the ground with America. A startled Canada met eyes with an excited America, who was presenting him with another cookie.

"Here, you can have da big one!" America said, as he held out the always highly coveted "biggest cookie" out to him.

Canada gave America a nervous half-smile. "Eh, you do not have t—"

But America was already switching the cookies. He snagged Canada's cookie as the boy was in the middle of trying to explain that giving away the bigger cookie would not be necessary. Of course, America wouldn't listen to any of that. The American pushed the other cookie onto Canada, much like he did with the first.

"There ya go! Go on, take it!" he happily insisted. No one could stop this boy from doing an act of good will! "It's ok! I don't mind, weally!"

Canada couldn't stop America from biting into the smaller cookie after that. Now there was no way the cookies could be re-exchanged. Defeated yet again, Canada sighed down at the larger portion of taste-bud torture he had been given.

"Th…Thank you," was all he could say.

"S'ok!" America proudly answered, before taking another bite out of his cookie. He then tried to encourage Canada to do the same. "Go on, twy it!" he said with a full mouth. "It's good!"

Canada whimpered at America's urging. He couldn't ignore the hopeful looks his brother was sending his way. America seemed to be under the impression that his mood would improve if he ate the cookie-present. Canada understood that his playmate was trying to be kind, and he really did appreciate the effort…but still…why did things always have to turn out this way for him? The poor Canadian didn't want the English biscuit, but he felt an inborn obligation to be polite and partake of the offering, so that his brother would be put at ease.

He looked down and turned the cookie over in his hands. It didn't look (he took a cautious sniff) or smell _that_ bad. His stomach began to rumble as he conducted his cookie inspection. The boy had forgotten that he hadn't had any dinner. When he realized his hunger, the cookie suddenly began to look more appetizing.

"Go on," Canada heard America prod.

Canada's stomach growled again, as he raised the cookie to his mouth. The colony held his tummy. He hesitated. Canada was hungry, yes, but was he really _that_ desperate?

"Go on," America kept saying.

Canada closed his eyes and took a tiny nibble.

After the taste settled in his mouth, Canada waited for his gagging reflex to kick in. Funny thing was, it never did. Canada slowly opened his eyes. He was still alive. He felt fine. Canada now eyed the rest of the cookie in his hands. Was it really, truly possible that he could actually _eat _it? Canada chose to take a chance. He tore into the cookie and ate it heartily.

Next to him, America was looking on with approval. "See?" he said with a happy grin. "It's good, wight? Told ya so."

Canada didn't reply. He just ate. The cookie was dry, didn't have much flavor, and was charred on the bottom, but all in all, it was very edible. That biscuit was the best thing Canada had eaten in weeks! Canada actually began to feel a little better with something in his stomach. He briefly wondered if part of the reason he had been so emotional that evening was due to the fact that he had skipped a meal. France had always made sure Canada was well-feed. Canada could remember a few times when he had felt grumpy, but France had always known just what to do.

"Why so disagreeable, _mon petite_?" France would ask him with a frown. "This is not like the _Mathieu_ I know. Ah!" then, when he would pretend to figure out the mystery, he would always act surprised; as if he had realized that he should have known the problem all along. "But of course, _ma petite colonie_ is hungry, _non_?" Finally, he would pick Canada up in a caressing hug. The older male would only chuckle at Canada's irritated pouting which always followed the parental gesture. "Not to worry, _Mathieu_," France would assure. "Your big brother, France, will whip up a little something for us right away. Some fine nourishment is just the thing for you~"

Canada had to smile at the memories. France's philosophy on child rearing must have been something along the lines of "A child filled up with good food, was a happy child." As Canada filled the empty spaces in his belly, he became certain that his brother had been right. The plain cookie was making him feel so much better.

The cookie was a far cry from France's edible masterpieces, though. While Canada munched on his tasteless biscuit, he tried to imagine that it was a delicious French dessert, but there were some things that even his imagination couldn't improve. Oh well. It might not have been French cuisine, but Canada was still grateful for the biscuit. It wasn't bad at all, really; it just needed something to give it flavor (As Canada contemplated this to himself, his mouth was working extra-hard to break the cookie apart), _and_ something to moisten it, he also decided. After Canada's jaw got a good workout, he was able to swallow his first few bites. Here, he took a moment to look the cookie over again. He thought of what would work best to fix the flaws in the baked good.

Maple syrup might work.

Canada did love the taste of maple. He took another tough bite and imagined the possibilities…. Yes, maple syrup would work wonders on it! Why had he not thought of this before? Canada made a mental note to try adding syrup on England's other dishes. Maybe if he covered England's bad food with enough of the stuff, it would help to cancel out the disgusting.

Thinking of the healing powers of maple made Canada smile again. His attitude was getting better and better, as he continued to eat his snack. For the first time, he felt he had hope for surviving England's poor cooking skills.

Beside the boy, America was noticing his happy expressions and decided to comment on what he thought was the cause. "Engwand's food is da best!"

Canada ate on, but thought about America's exclamation. Taking into account everything that had happened since their meeting, Canada made a mental observation on his twin: America seemed to think that England was a wonder at _everything_. The Canadian wondered to himself how his brother could be so clueless—especially when it came to England's cooking.

Suddenly, Canada's mood plummeted again. The boy choked on his cookie. A terrible thought had just hit him! What if England was just as bad at _sewing_, as he was at cooking? Canada's thoughts went back to his toy in England's care. For all he knew, England could have the arm sewed on the bear's head by now! Canada was now ready to shoot up from his seat on the floor and scramble back to rescue his bear!

"Hey, what's it wike at your pwace?"

Canada jumped at America's voice. "E-Eh?" he stammered. The bear was momentarily put on hold. The interruption had stalled Canada's thought process.

"What's it wike where you wiv?" America repeated with a curious look.

"Uh…" Canada tried to recollect his thoughts. The image of his mutated bear came back into his head. The boy developed a worried squirm. He kept looking towards the door of the kitchen. He wanted to run away, but he was afraid that America might try to stop him, if he tried.

"It is like it is here…I suppose," Canada finally began. He did his best to answer America's question without thinking about the fate of his bear. "It is really big…and really nice…." How was Canada supposed to describe his home, anyway? "Ah, but it is colder than it is here," Canada finally came up with something he could use as a distinction between his home and America's.

America shuddered. "I don't wike it when it's cold," he said.

"I-It is not that bad…" Canada reluctantly continued the conversation. He sat with his back to the kitchen door. He took deep breaths and tried to calm himself. He told himself that it wouldn't make any sense for England to sew the bear's arm to its head, when the empire had already started sewing it back on at the right place...then again, it didn't make any sense that England could burn water, but Canada had seen England manage that….

"A-And it is not cold all the time," Canada slowly added. His mind wasn't really on the conversation. He stole another glance in the door's direction. In his mind, it seemed improbable that England could make any huge mistakes with his bear when things had started out well, but he was debating on going to check on the process, anyway. It did seem to be taking a long time to fix his bear. Why was it taking so long? They had been in the kitchen for…for forever! (And this was coming from a normally patient boy, who didn't like to rush anything) Shouldn't England have been done by now?

While Canada worried, America stretched his legs out. He had finished his cookie by now, and was starting to get a little bored. He had failed to notice his brother's nervous ticks. He was still half-listening to Canada, but the inattentive and slow way Canada answered questions didn't exactly grab the boy's attention. America was beginning to lose interest.

America stuck a foot up and wriggled his toes in the air for no reason at all. As he was about to tune Canada out completely, America remembered something that brought up another question about Canada's home. He remembered how Canada had explained earlier that his all-white bear (or "polar bears") lived where it was very cold. Now that he knew that his twin lived in a cold place, his mind had made the connection. America became very excited all of a sudden, for he really wanted to see one of those white bears for himself.

"Oh!" he cried out and turned to Canada with new animation. "Do ya have pol…"

America cut himself off before he finished his sentence. He had been going to ask, "Do you have polar bears in your home?" But thankfully, he had realized halfway through the word "polar" that he had been about to make a horrible mistake! Looking at who he was talking to, brought him back to the memory of Canada's broken bear and his own responsibility as the older sibling. That's right! He was supposed to be keeping the little brother _happy_. Canada seemed ok now, but America was afraid that one false move could knock him back into depression. Bringing up something that would make Canada think about his damaged toy might do just that. It struck America that he should be trying to help Canada forget about his bear, not remind him of it.

"Pol…pol…" America continued stuttering awkwardly, in spite of himself. Canada was waiting for the rest of the question. He had to say _something_, now! (Something that preferably started with a "pol") And if he didn't hurry up, he would look stupid! America quickly ransacked his little vocabulary for anything that started with "pol." He had a hard time finding a good word. The questioning looks Canada was giving added extra pressure, until America finally just said the first animal that popped into his head:

"Pol…polecats?"

Phew! That was close. America thought that he had made a good save.

But Canada cocked his head in confusion. "Pardon?"

Maybe it had not worked as well as he had thought. America took a deep breath. "Do you have polecats there?" he tried again. He acted as if that was totally what he had meant to say. He hoped that Canada would buy the substituted animal, but Canada was starting to look somewhat upset. America tensed up as he waited for what his twin to say something.

"…Wha…ah…pardon me, but…what is a polecat?" Canada eventually, and very shyly, inquired.

America let out a thankful breath. "A skunk," he happily explained.

Canada still looked lost.

"You know!" America waved his hand around, trying to describe the animal. "It's wike a…a widdle bwack cat, wif a poofy tail, and white stwipes on its back—and it spways stinky stuff on you, if ya get it mad."

"Ah, _mouffette_," Canada nodded as he finally understood. He was still not yet an expert on English. "Y-Yes. We have…po…suh…"

"Skunks."

"We have those."

"Good."

A moment of silence came after that. America was so relieved that Canada seemed to have fallen for the skunk thing that he blanked out on what to say after that. Canada went back to his biscuit. Not one who was comfortable with silence, America tried to think back to what the original exchange had been about.

"Um, could ya show it ta me?"

Canada gave America another puzzled look as he chewed the hard bits of his cookie. "You want me to show you the skunks?" he questioned after swallowing his food.

"No!" America shook his head. "I wanna see your home! Could ya show it all ta me?"

"Eh?"

Realizing what his new brother was asking, Canada blinked in surprise. America actually wanted to see his home? He gave the idea some thought. He liked America. His new brother had made a good playmate that evening. It didn't take long for Canada to decide that it might be fun if America could come over to his place, sometime. Canada liked the idea of being able to show America his little house and his other toys. And he wouldn't feel nearly as out of place if he were in his own home-land.

"I-If you come for a visit, I could show it to you," Canada softly offered with a bashful smile.

"Gweat!" America shouted. "And while you're here, I can show you all kinds of stuff! Maybe tomorrow, we can go explorin'!"

America chatted on for a long time after that. He launched into an impromptu list of ideas for Canada and he that seemed endless. The boy bragged about how he knew where all the best climbing trees were, and where to find the tastiest berries, and the coolest hide-outs. He behaved as if he had had a stroke of pure genius when he remembered that he also knew the location of a mamma rabbit's burrow. With eyes shining, he told his brother of how cute the bunnies were, and of how much fun it was to play with them. He then suggested that they should try to get England to take them both on a picnic. America recalled a tall hill that he thought would be the perfect spot for one. According to him, a person could see everything all around from the top of that hill. But best of all, the grass on that hill was soft and the incline was smooth. America described it as perfect for rolling and tumbling down. The colony then went on to describe a shallow river, not far from the hill, that they could splash in. The fun options America held went on and on.

As America reveled in his plans, Canada finished his cookie and listened quietly. America's words were so alluring, that the bear almost left his mind completely. All of the ideas sounded like so much fun to Canada. He loved nature. Most might mistake him for a child that preferred to sit quietly around the house, but that was not him. He might appear somewhat and reserved, but he could become a different person out in the fresh air. Sometimes, there was no place he would rather be than outside, running, playing, and enjoying the wilder world. He was glad to find out that his new brother seemed to enjoy the outdoors, as much as him. It seemed like an eternity since Canada had played outside with his friends, like a normal Canadian child. France had played with him a few times, but he had never been as eager to get in touch with nature the way Canada did. He had always been too concerned about soiling his clothes. Not to say that Canada hadn't been fine with that. He had never minded playing tamer games outdoors, or even conducting most of playtime indoors, for his big brother's sake, but he missed going back to his roots. He couldn't wait to see everything America's wildernesses had to offer. At some point, Canada also began to think of all the special things in his own lands that he would like to show America. He really hoped that he would get the chance to be a tour guide for his new brother.

Somehow, it didn't seem so strange to Canada that he had a twin, anymore. In fact, it didn't seem strange to America, either. Although they had only known each other for a few hours, both boys amazingly felt like they had known the other always. It was hard to describe. It all felt so natural, that they just _had_ to be real brothers. It was as if the two had been reunited after a long separation. Now they both felt that they had some catching up to do. The boys became so lost in their own worlds, that neither of them heard it when another person entered the kitchen.

"Canada," a voice broke the spell on the children.

America stopped talking and looked at the new speaker. Canada turned around. England stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

America smiled, but Canada instinctively backed away. The Canadian's action was like a reflex. He had thought that he had been prepared to dash to England's side by himself only a few minutes ago, but now that the real England had come to him and was standing in front of him, the boy suddenly felt shy. Plus, he couldn't help feeling awfully uncomfortable with the way England was looking at him. England was only smiling, but Canada was still not accustomed to seeing the normally scowling England in a good mood. Just trying to imagine a happy England was strange enough, but experiencing it was honestly just downright creepy to the little colony. Well, Canada found it creepy when it was directed at _him_, anyway.

England's sudden presence made Canada want to hug his bear. He moved to squeeze his toy without giving it any thought…but (surprise-surprise), no bear. The absence of something to hug for comfort only made Canada want to withdraw even more from the Englishman. Still, he forced himself to search England for any sign of his bear before he retreated any further. But it didn't look like England had his bear. England was all alone. Worry grabbed Canada. What had happened to his friend?

Then, England walked forward. Canada panicked and hid behind America, as his brother stood. Canada could make himself face the empire if he _had_ to, but with a friend by his side, and no stuffed animal to help give him courage, it was just easier to use the person he trusted as a shield. America acted surprised when Canada jumped behind him and grabbed his shoulders. Then he saw his brother's scared face.

"It's ok," he whispered to Canada.

America tried to make Canada come out from behind him, but the boy wouldn't budge. England was soon before them. America gave up on Canada and just greeted England as the man kneeled down before the boys.

England nodded at America briefly. "I believe I have someone that belongs to you," England spoke; addressing Canada again.

Canada automatically shrunk down from England's attention. He hid his face behind America's shoulder a little more, but he kept his eyes peeking out so that he had a good view of England. He watched carefully as England moved a hand out from behind his back and held out his bear. England looked very proud of himself.

Canada gave a small gasp when his white friend was revealed. Everything seemed to slow down for Canada at that moment. Slowly, Canada moved his head out from behind America for a better look. He couldn't believe it. He bear really appeared to be fixed. The broken arm was attached to its proper place. The bear itself seemed none the worse for the wear. Actually, Canada could almost swear that his old friend was smiling back at him. And to top it off, England had tied a ribbon around its neck. Canada's bear now proudly sported a bright red bow.

As Canada stood in awe, America couldn't contain his excitement. "Wook! Wook! See? I told ya he could fix it! I _told_ ya!" America started shouting to Canada with joy, while furiously pointing to the bear.

Canada simply closed his own open mouth, and slowly came out of hiding. He continued staring transfixed on the plushy bear cub. He desperately wanted to sprint to it, reclaim it, and never let it go, but being too afraid that he might wake himself up, he cautiously walked to his bear. England grinned at his expression as he held the toy out to him. Canada very timidly reached up, and hesitantly took the bear from England.

It is impossible to describe how Canada felt when he got his favorite toy back at last! The boy openly stared in wonder and amazement at the bear in his hands. He had hardly dared to believe that his bear could really be repaired. It had just seemed impossible in a little boy's understanding. When he had seen the ripped bear for the first time, all hope had been lost. Even with all the assurance given to Canada, his mind had doubted that his bear would ever be the same again. But here his bear was: all fixed up, and looking as good as new.

"Wow!" America exclaimed next to Canada. He was still obsessing over the bear in his own way. "It's even got a wed bow, now!"

Canada couldn't take his eyes off the bear. It was like a miracle to him! He held his bear's hand. As he looked closer, he couldn't even tell where it had broken. The stitching looked identical to rest of the bear.

"What do you say, Canada?" the stunned boy heard England ask.

Canada knew the answer, but he couldn't speak. Luckily for him, America chose that moment to jump in England's face.

"Hey, Engwand!" America called; waving his arms to make sure that he got attention.

Canada unconsciously ignored the other two in the room at this point. He was in his own world; just him and his bear. The boy ran his finger over the stitching on his bear's arm. Maybe it was the ribbon that did it, but his bear seemed to look better than it ever had. Could it be possible that instead of mending the old one, England had somehow gotten a new one? No, he couldn't have. Canada felt happiness rising in him. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. He smiled and hugged his bear with all his might! He took a deep breath and smelled the familiar scent of roses. It _was _his bear! It really was the same old bear that France had given to him. It was like that stupid accident never happened.

But in the middle of Canada's inner celebration, he paused. Something wasn't right. He could still smell the roses clearly, but now he realized that he could also smell something else. Confused, the boy held the bear out in front of him and sniffed. He realized that the new smell was the ribbon…and it smelt like England.

England's smell was different. It was not like the smell of France's flowery perfumes. It was a stronger, richer smell. It wasn't as pleasant as France's beautiful fragrance…but it was not a repulsive smell. It wasn't bad. And it was not one fragrance, but a mix of many. Canada could recognize the smell of the clean threads and cloth from England's sewing basket. He could also catch the leafy scent of England's favorite tea. Maybe there was a slight smell of sea-salt, too. There were a few other elements that Canada couldn't place, but recognized them easily as the smells that made up England. He had apparently been living with England long enough to distinguish England's unique smell.

The young colony's first reaction to this new finding was to take his bear's new bow by one of its ends. He wanted to take the ribbon off. He didn't like the idea of his big brother's scent being stifled by England's. However, Canada stopped in that position. He found that it was hard to make himself mess up that pretty bow. Despite the unwelcome aroma, Canada really liked the way the ribbon looked on his bear. He liked the bright color of the red against his bear's white fur. The ribbon was also a very nice one. Canada loved the silky feel of it. Not able to make a decision at that moment, the boy looked over at England.

America was pulling on England's arm and dancing around him. Canada had only been alone with his thoughts for a few seconds. America had not told England the reason for his interruption, yet.

"Hey, hey, hey, Engwand, Engwand!" America chanted. "I want one too!" he declared at last. "Can my wabbit have a bow too?"

Canada watched England.

"_Please_, _may_I have a bow for my rabbit," England corrected America before giving a real answer. (With the way England had said it, Canada assumed that the man probably made fruitless attempts at righting his brother's impolite speech, often. "And yes," England went with an added sigh and a faint smile. "I suppose you may have one, as well. Go get your rabbit and pick out a ribbon from my basket in the other room."

"Yay!"

America was so happy, that he twirled around the room a few times. While the boy celebrated, England watched with affection. Canada smiled at the expression on his new guardian's face. He couldn't believe it, but England's pleasant smile was starting to look a little more natural. Canada began to contemplate the man before him. Maybe…just maybe…England wasn't _all_ bad. Canada had seen glimpses of kindness from the empire that day. Now, as he witnessed more of England's tender interactions with America, and remembered how his twin seemed to think the world of England, Canada had a hard time supporting the belief that his new guardian as a heartless beast. If Canada had never met England before that very moment, he would have thought that England was a kind hearted big brother, just like France. The boy liked England this way. He wished that England would show this side of himself more often. Something told him deep down that the kind England was actually closer to the true England. He suspected that the real England was nicer that he let on. He just didn't understand why England chose to act so calloused most of the time. That did not make any sense to the Canadian.

But Canada still felt nervous around England. He couldn't help it. After all he had been through, after the cold way that England had treated him before this day, he was still unsure if he could _completely_ trust England. Something in Canada wanted to trust him, though. England was stern, but he _was_ nice enough to fix his bear. Canada was still young, and he desperately needed an adult in his life that he felt he could depend on.

Canada turned back to the problem of what to do about the ribbon on his bear. He hugged the bear close again. He breathed in the combined fragrances. After a moment, Canada decided that he liked it. France's roses calmed him, but there was something comforting in England's scent, as well. He took a moment to admire his bear's new appearance again. It really was thoughtful of England to add a bow. It might have been a small gesture, but Canada almost felt like England had given him a present. The boy knew that he really should thank England for everything that he had done.

Back to America, he was still hopping around the kitchen, excitedly. When he had danced to his heart's content, he rushed off to find his stuffed animal and a ribbon of his own. England laughed out loud and took a step to follow after his colony. Suddenly, England felt a soft tug on his pant leg. The nation stopped and looked down to see what it was. He was taken aback to see Canada holding his pants. For a moment there, England had forgotten that Canada had also been in the room.

"Yes?" England asked when the boy didn't let go.

Canada was not looking at him. His head was lowered. His little fist trembled slightly as it grasped England's breeches. His other arm was hugging his stuffed bear. He started stammering very softly, like he was nervous about something. England waited.

"Um…er…th-thank you…," Canada finally whispered, shyly; still not looking at England. He held his bear very close. "Thank you very much."

England was quiet. He couldn't stop his heart from swelling at those little words. Canada seemed so cute and pitiful, that all words failed England for a few seconds. The empire gave a sad smile at his new colony. Looking down at the timid boy, he could feel that same pinch of guilt for being so harsh with him. England put a hand on the boy's head. It was meant to be a comforting move, but the surprise of it caused Canada to draw back from it, slightly. More guilt assaulted England when he felt the child flinch under his touch. He didn't want the boy to fear him. Well, Canada was his colony, so actually England _did_ want to be feared by the boy to some degree, but he didn't like that his mere presence seemed to terrify Canada so. Perhaps he could afford to loosen up more around Canada. He still felt bad about the way he had handled the ripped bear incident, earlier. However, he tried not to let his guilt show. Being the proud British Empire that he was, he couldn't exactly apologies to a former French colony for his bad parenting. But he did have a desire to start over with Canada.

"You're quite welcome," England spoke kindly. He wanted to communicate that it had been his pleasure to help. It had never been easy for England to express himself, especially when he felt uncomfortable around the other party. He certainly didn't feel comfortable around Canada. The boy wasn't like America. America was so accepting that he made talking easy. Then, England had an idea. He remembered putting himself down before for not holding Canada (the way he would have naturally held America) when the boy had been crying over his bear. Now alone with Canada like this, England felt an urge to hold the cute little boy. This time, he acted on his instincts.

England reached down and lifted Canada up. The boy gasped and stiffened in his arms. That reaction was understandable. England had never picked Canada up like that before, so of course the child was not used to being held by him. Canada finally lifted his head. England saw that he had gotten this wide, shocked look in his eyes. The boy hugged his bear all the more. He almost looked like he wanted to scream and jump out of the embrace, but he didn't dare move a muscle. England had to laugh quietly to himself at the child's surprised expression. It was cute in a way. Still, he wanted to eventually fix that. Canada shouldn't be afraid of being held by him. Then, England saw that Canada was tearing up. England tried to give Canada a reassuring smile. He hoped Canada would see that it was genuine. The older man tenderly brushed the moist ends of the toddler's eyes with his thumb.

"No more tears…alright?" he whispered.

"Yes sir, Mister England," Canada promptly answered—though, it was more out of habit than fear. Canada actually felt no malice from England as he spoke. Still, he wasn't going to take a chance at upsetting his new guardian, if he could help it. After Canada's quick reply, the boy watched England's smile grow gentler, though also a bit more awkward.

"And you needn't keep calling me 'Mister England,'" the nation continued with a nervous laugh. "'England' will do."

And Canada had thought that getting picked up and held by England was a shock! Now England wanted him to just say "England?" No more "Mister?" Canada didn't know if he could do that. He still wasn't very close to England. After living with the powerful empire and calling him "Mister England" for so long, dropping the "Mister" seemed way too familiar. It was almost disrespectful in Canada's opinion.

From England's point of view, Canada seemed to pale some. England frowned. He didn't understand the need for that. All he had said was that Canada could address him by his name. Suddenly, Canada spoke.

"Eh…y-yes sir, Mi…E-E-England," he clumsily, but obediently, replied. Canada looked away after he spoke. He appeared apologetic for leaving out the "Mister," even though he had been given permission to do that.

England smiled again with approval. This was going better than he thought it would. Outside, he kept his composure, but inside, he was jumping! He was delighted that he seemed to be making progress with his new colony.

"Not bad for a start," England said cheerfully.

Canada slowly raised his head again.

"Now, what's say we find your brother?" England asked; wanting to move on. "He's spent a fair amount of time searching through my things for a ribbon, don't you think? I fear he might be getting himself tangled in my threads as we speak."

England then carried Canada off with him to search for the other colony. Canada relaxed slightly in England's hold. The boy didn't know what to think of all this. It had been one crazy day. At the beginning of it he had been an only child with no family. Now, he had a twin brother. His new sibling was kind of strange, but he made a very enjoyable playmate. At the beginning of this day, Canada had also felt a strong disliking for England. Now, he was not sure how he felt about the man. He knew he didn't hate him anymore. He wasn't sure if he could say that he _liked _England, but Canada did feel a little, teeny, tiny bit better about him.

Well, as England said, that was a start.

* * *

Phew! I can't believe I'm finally done with this story! I meant to have it finished by Sunday, but once again, I'm late. I hope the extra work I put into it made it worth the wait, and I hope the ending was a pretty solid one. Most of the focus of this story was on America and Canada, but it still kind of made sense to me to end it with England and Canada and end it with an ending that was similar to "A New Guardian," (only happier ^^ ) since that story started this one. I wanted the two to be reconciled in some way, I guess. I wanted them to go from Canada being scared of an intimidating England, to England trying to be nicer and Canada starting to warm up to his new guardian. And I am planning on writing more stories about this little family and more about Canada and England becoming more accustomed to each other. I might take a break from that for a bit, though.

There is a little symbolism in this (obviously) with the red ribbon on Canada's white bear. I thought it would be nice for England to add a bow or something to Canada's bear, and then I realized how well that would work, because (according to my sources) the white in the Canadian flag is supposed to represent Canada's French roots, and the red is the English roots. So the white bear was given to Canada by France, and the ribbon was given to him by England. I do find it funny that the bear smelled like roses, when roses are actually England's national flower, though. XP But France always has these romantic roses around him. I couldn't imagine him smelling like anything else!

Thanks so much to everyone who read this story all the way through! I really, really hope you all enjoyed it!


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